


Dead Seoul

by mertlekang



Series: Cold and Damp [2]
Category: Super Junior
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Blood and Gore, Donghae is an innocent angel, Loss of Virginity, M/M, No Heroes, everybody is having a bad time unless they're bangin' eachother, everybody looks like shit, everybody needs a bath, hankyung is a cool dude, hyuk is posessive, kangin is a dick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-18 06:28:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 84,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mertlekang/pseuds/mertlekang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Seoul becomes infested with the living dead and the government abandons them; it's only natural that they realise hidden feelings in the midst of disaster - but where are Heechul and Sungmin? What happened to Hankyung? Did Youngwoon and Jungsu escape? And is Kyuhyun really dead?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Youngwoon’s heart was racing, pounding in his chest as he watched with dark eyes the helicopter descend. They all looked so happy, the idiots, grinning like fools – how could they not see it? Were they really so naive?

He took a step closer to Jungsu, readying himself to grab him and run, to pull him away. There was no way he could leave him behind; he had to save him - if no one else. His mind was foggy from alcohol, but that only strengthened his resolve.

As the helicopter touched down on the asphalt, a bead of sweat trickled down his neck. Now. Now was the moment.

But he was distracted for a second at the sudden movement in the corner of his eye, and he turned to see Kyuhyun stood behind him, the doors thrust open at his sides with the dark stairwell as his backdrop; his jaw slack and his limbs loose and Youngwoon knew he had to get out of there.

That wasn’t Kyuhyun any more; he knew it even before the boy looked at him with those terrible blue eyes.

He snatched Jungsu’s hand without a moments thought, and whatever the older man said in protest was lost over the roar of the helicopter’s propellers. Kyuhyun was too slow to catch them as they ran past, and instead he went for Sungmin. That was the last thing he saw, the spray of blood from Sungmin’s neck, Kyuhyun’s teeth tearing away a massive chunk of flesh and Sungmin falling to his knees, to the ground, before they plunged into the darkness of the stairwell, not once looking back.

They ran down step after step into the darkness until the sounds were mere echoes and they were on the ground floor. The hinges on the staff door were barely holding on, and as they ran past, he could see their ugly faces peering through the gaps they’d ripped in the metal and they roared and screamed at the sight of meat and fought all the harder to get inside.

He pretty much threw Jungsu into the warehouse before he slammed the door behind them. They stood there in the dusty, dim light; wide-eyed, breathless and terrified. Jungsu had seen it too, he was sure. The way Sungmin fell, the look in his eyes – the look in Kyuhyun’s eyes.

It really happened. People really changed. It could happen to any of them – it was real now.

It was as if he’d been in a nightmare, only to realise it was reality. He wasn’t asleep. The monsters were real and they were after him and he’d never wake up.

He leant back against the heavy warehouse door, letting himself slide to the floor, and he held his head in his hands. He had the worst headache, why had he drank so much? It seemed Jungsu was frozen in place, still staring at the floor with a haunted look in his eyes. He seemed to have aged years in a matter of minutes.

A gunshot rang out in the silence of the warehouse, and Youngwoon’s heart was in his mouth. The people from the helicopter were inside. The undead or the living, Youngwoon knew neither of them were there to save them. If he and Jungsu went out there, they'd be the ones getting shot.

More gunshots.

Closer.

Louder.

What would happen when they were done with the undead? They’d come looking for them. They’d come in there.

They had to leave; they had to get out right now. He looked around wildly, frantically. Jungsu came to stand beside him, ghostly pale and shaking. The crappy Pinto they’d got here in was in the middle of the large warehouse, but it had no gas, and even if they filled it up it wouldn’t last much longer – not to mention the floor of the car was covered in his vomit. Two large delivery lorries were parked side by side in the far corner of the room, but he had no idea of how to drive such a large vehicle.  
It would have to do.

Jungsu didn’t respond when Youngwoon tried to speak to him, and he had to practically drag him over to the closest lorry. He was shaking terribly, and he could barely get into the van without Youngwoon’s help. As he slammed the passenger door shut, he heard the gunshots raining down inside, closer and closer amongst the moans and cries of the undead.

He ran towards the corrugated metal doors separating them from the parking lot, and flicked the switch on the control panel, running back to the lorry without waiting for them to rise. Thankfully, the keys had been left in the ignition, and with a flick of his wrist the engine was roaring to life and his feet found the pedals just as the gunshots came dangerously close to the warehouse door. The lorry screeched out into the parking lot, and he let himself take a deep breath, a sigh of relief as he relaxed into the worn-out drivers seat.

He knew they weren’t safe yet, and they probably wouldn’t be for a long time, but he hadn’t expected it to be so bad. His eyes widened as he drove into the precinct, past the store. There were hundreds of them swarming around the entrance, and the roars were deafening. More and more were flooding in, attracted to the noise of the gunshots like ants to sugar.

Thankfully, though, it drew them away from him. The road away from the department store was clear apart from a few wrecked cars. He could breathe easy for a while.  
Jungsu sat in the passenger seat silently, staring out of the window. He was thinking of the others, of what he’d just seen, Youngwoon was sure. Even though he barely knew them, except for Heechul, he was probably blaming himself for leaving them behind. Thinking about all the possibilities, all the terrible things that might have happened to them after they’d escaped. He wanted to reassure him, to say it wasn’t his fault, but he hadn’t the words.

Or maybe he was thinking of the helicopter – their ticket to safety. If he leaned toward the windshield he could see it flying away. But he knew, somehow, it wasn’t safety it was flying to. That helicopter was worse than the fate that awaited them outside. It was all too sinister; he could just feel it in his gut. Something was wrong and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let them take Jungsu too.

They drove for hours in silence, and it was dark by the time they found somewhere relatively safe to park. They hadn’t seen a single one of those things since they left the Galleria, and although he found it odd, he was thankful. They had no weapons, no energy, and he wasn’t even sure he could bring himself to kill one of them.

Jungsu hadn’t taken his eyes off the window even once, and when Jungsu stood up and climbed into the back of the van, Youngwoon nearly jumped.

‘You know,’ he mumbled, ‘you know we had to run, right?’ He needed to hear Jungsu speak, just a word, even a mumble, but he only nodded. It was as if he was a ghost. ‘They weren’t there to save us, you know.’ he started again, and this time he didn’t know whether he was talking to Jungsu or to himself. ‘This was the right thing to do.’

Jungsu nodded once more before carrying on into the back of the van, and it was too dark in there for Youngwoon to see what he was doing. He drove and drove until nothing but empty motorway stretched before and behind him. Letting out a mighty sigh, he ran his hand through his hair and sat back in the drivers seat, stretching his feet out and cutting the engine.

It’d get cold soon without the engine on, and he pulled his jacket tighter around himself, staring numbly out into the darkness.

\----

The blood, the blood, the blood. It was all he could see, all he could think of. The way Kyuhyun bit so brutally into Sungmin’s throat was inhuman. It could have been any one of them he attacked, but it ended up being the one person he’d tried to protect the most. It was terrifying to think it actually happened, that he'd actually turned into one of them.

He’d left Heechul behind. He’d let Youngwoon pull him away and he’d ran and hadn’t looked back. He’d left him. His best friend was in mortal danger and he didn’t save him, the man he grew up with. He felt sick, dizzy, as if the floor had given way beneath his body and he was falling and falling. What had happened after he’d left? Had Kyuhyun attacked Heechul too? Hankyung?

How could they not have noticed Kyuhyun was infected? When he thought about it, it was so obvious, how Sungmin avoided the subject so awkwardly.

He was so tired, but too many thoughts were screaming in his mind, most of all - why had Youngwoon saved him? If he’d left him behind, he’d have been safer; he would’ve got away faster. There’d be one less mouth to feed, one less person to worry about. Yet he was relieved, somewhere in his confusion, that Youngwoon had taken him. He felt safe with him, though he knew the younger man was useless. All brawn and no brains, but it was more than nothing. He was a good man when it was just the two of them, and when he was sober. That was why he loved him.

He curled his knees to his chest. He’d found a stack of mattresses up against the wall of the truck, along with new pillows and duvets and other bedding. Apparently nobody had unloaded the van. He was too numb to feel happy about it when he'd first stumbled into the back of the vehicle, but now it was a godsend. It was cold now, and he ripped the plastic packing apart, pulling the duvet up to his chin. He balled his fists in the soft material and lay on the floor, listening to the hum of the engine and praying for sleep.

\-------

Youngwoon didn’t sit there for long. It grew too cold, sitting still with only a thin jacket to keep him warm. He was tempted to turn the engine back on, but the thought of Jungsu sleeping defencelessly in the back made him stop. If those things saw the lights on, heard the engine, they’d swarm and he wouldn’t be able to do a thing. His stomach growled and he grumbled to himself, he’d have to get food for the both of them, he knew it. Jungsu was too weak and petrified to do it, and honestly he’d rather go himself than sit worrying about the older man.

The lorry was parked on a bridge, a lake running beneath it. Further ahead lay a thick cluster of trees to either side of the motorway. He’d be able to see if anything was coming, if need be. There were no stars tonight, too much smoke in the air, too many clouds. He could see a fire glowing faintly in the distance. Maybe they’d set the Galleria alight? Maybe. It would be far easier than shooting every single one of those zom- no. He couldn’t even bear to think the word. Zombies. How stupid - a thing of horror films and bad fiction novels. Yet here they were, right before his eyes.

Hungry. Mindless. Terrifying.

He yawned, rubbing his eyes wearily. He was tired and cold and fed up. He’d seen enough for one day. He stood and went to climb into the back of the lorry, but stopped, remembering to lock the doors, and then continued. He would’ve tripped over Jungsu if he hadn’t been using his cell phone to see in the darkness. He’d had it in his pocket the whole time, though it was useless. The battery was critical and there was no signal.

The back of the lorry was filled with mattresses and bedding, but Jungsu lay shivering on the floor beneath a thin duvet in the middle of it all. He watched him lying there for a few seconds before pulling off his shoes and lifting the duvet, lying beside him. He didn’t think about the fact he was under the sheets with another man, he was far too tired, far too comfortable.

And Jungsu was warm.

\-------------

It was cold when he awoke, and he nuzzled closer to the warmth at his chest until the last dregs of sleep left his foggy mind and his eyes struggled open, only to land on the sleeping face of Jungsu, his body closely entwined with his own. His face was more serene than he had ever seen it, the worry gone from his handsome face.

His first instinct was to wriggle away, to untangle himself from the older man as fast as physically possible, yet something stopped him.

Maybe it was just how tired Jungsu looked, how worn and weary. He couldn’t bring himself to move, to disturb him, so he lay back down and pushed away the feeling of repulsion stirring in his gut at the thought of being so close to another man. Instead he wrapped his thick arms around Jungsu’s back, pulling his warmth closer to his broad chest. He watched Jungsu sleep until he fell back to sleep himself.

\----------------

When he awoke for the second time, it was much colder than before, and when he opened his eyes, Jungsu was not beside him. A pinprick of panic rippled through his chest, a swirling, sickening feeling of fear coiling in his stomach. He got to his wobbly feet, eyes frantic and ready to shout his name before a quiet voice cut him short.

‘I’m hungry’ Jungsu said, his voice papery thin and as rough as sandpaper. He was sat in the passenger seat once again, and Youngwoon had to shield his eyes to look at him. It was blindingly bright at the front of the lorry compared to the back, it must’ve been around midday, and when his eyes finally adjusted to the light he had to fight back a gasp.

Jungsu looked terrible. Worse than he had ever seen him. His skin was pale and his face was hollow, drawn. His eyes were deeply set, dark bags under each one like bruises.

He hadn’t realised he’d been staring until Jungsu spoke again, not once turning to face him.

‘We’ll have to get food.’

Youngwoon knew what he really meant, though, and he groaned.

Not ‘we’ll have to get food,’ but ‘you’ll have to get food’.

\-----

They drove til they saw the signs for a rest stop, and they parked a safe distance away, keeping the van out of sight. They were hidden behind a thick cluster of trees, or at least... he was. Jungsu was alone, waiting.

Youngwoon hadn’t looked the slightest bit enthusiastic about leaving the safety of the truck, but Jungsu couldn’t bring himself to feel bad for guilting him into it. He was starving, and he was weak. Youngwoon had enough fat hanging off his bones to last him another week.

But he’d been gone for far too long now, and the beginnings of worry had started to swirl in his chest. His hand rested contemplatively on the door handle, but common sense hadn’t abandoned him just yet. If Youngwoon was in trouble, what help would he be? He’d just get in the way. He was safer in the truck.

His stomach growled mournfully, loud in the tense silence that filled the truck and he sighed heartily. His eyes still felt heavy after his short sleep, and he couldn’t bring himself to check his reflection in the rear-view mirror.

He must’ve only had four or five hours sleep. He was still awake when Youngwoon had joined him under the duvet, and the shock of being so close to him had kept him awake for hours. The only time he’d ever seen Youngwoon sleep so close was when the younger man was drunk, but this was different. Youngwoon knew where he was, who he was with and – if he wasn’t as stupid as he made himself out to be – he knew how Jungsu felt.

Waking up was worse.

He was so warm that it was almost painful to open his eyes, scared to break the cocoon of warmth he was wrapped in. But when he did, he found it wasn’t a cocoon, it was Youngwoon.

And oh, how his heart had jumped.

He must’ve stopped breathing for a moment, and he’d thought it was a dream at first. He’d let himself relax into what he'd thought was his imaginary embrace, but when the bigger man fidgeted in his sleep, he was shocked back to reality once again. Obviously Youngwoon had cuddled up to him in his sleep. He was unconscious, he didn’t know what he was doing. Jungsu was warm, that was all.

And if Youngwoon woke up and found himself in kissing distance, what would he have done then? Jungsu was under no illusion that he’d simply go back to sleep, and he disentangled himself from the bigger man as quickly and quietly as he possibly could. He’d seen Youngwoon freak out far too many times, and if he was going to be trapped in this truck with him for a long time, he wanted the atmosphere between them to be as frictionless as possible. He couldn’t show him how much he longed to throw himself into those arms and sob; to tell him how scared he was and how he loved him so much more for saving him from the fate the others had inevitably suffered. He couldn’t succumb to his desire to cover his thin lips with his own plump ones and tell him once again just how much he loved him, how long he’d wanted to be close to him, how he’d dreamt of his body impossibly close to his, naked and honest.

No.

Never.

He sat in the passenger seat for three hours or so, cold and hungry and tired, watching Youngwoon sleep. He thought about turning the engine on, getting the truck warmed up, but it would be too noisy, too risky. Somewhere in his bundle of confused, tangled up emotions was a fear so deep he couldn’t bring himself to think about it. The fear of them. 

Those things doing what Kyuhyun did to Sungmin – doing what Kyuhyun could’ve done to him.

Ripping, tearing, peeling the flesh off his bones with their teeth, with their hands as he screamed and cried and nobody would save him. Not this time. Because Youngwoon was all   
he had left, and they’d get him too.

When Youngwoon had woken up, he’d felt a flicker of hope spark in his chest at the frantic, searching look on his face. He was worried about him, he cared.  
The younger man had given him his jacket before he’d left to check out the supermarket, and Jungsu pulled it tight around his shoulders, leaning back into the stiff passenger seat and closing his eyes. He inhaled deeply, his nose buried in the fabric, a scent like beer and sweat and Youngwoon.

\------

The air was crisp and his breath came out in white puffs of vapour as soon as he left the truck, and he thought maybe he shouldn’t have left his jacket with Jungsu after all. He made off toward the supermarket, anyway. The fresh, cold air had woken him up completely before he’d even stepped into the thick cluster of trees that separated the lorry from the supermarket. Frozen twigs snapped underfoot, deafeningly loud in the silence around him and he clenched his teeth with every noisy step he took. It was light in the woods, thankfully, the pale grey sky looming overhead as thin, finger-like branches reached upwards towards it.

He hurried his steps, though he had no reason to. Surely there was more danger awaiting him outside of the trees than in. He trudged on ruthlessly, however. The sound of snapping twigs and dead, crunching leaves became almost rhythmic, and with every footfall his thoughts turned more and more to Jungsu.  
He’d been truly terrified when he’d woken up alone, and he was sick of making excuses. He was worried about Jungsu – no, more than worried. He was petrified of what could have happened to him. He was all Youngwoon had, and he meant that in earnest. He hadn’t taken Jungsu with him on a whim, nor had he took him for safety in numbers. He’d known that helicopter was bad news, and he’d known he had to take Jungsu and only Jungsu.

Because Jungsu loved him.

How he hadn’t noticed before he couldn’t figure out for the life of him. He’d always been there. Always. Even though Youngwoon was no good and violent and mean and drunk, he’d take it all, and he wouldn’t complain. He’d look after him when he’d pass out in Jungsu’s dorm, even when his room-mate grumbled about it – what was his name again... Jongwoon? In fact, he couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t found himself in Jungsu’s bed after a party, a glass of water and a pack of painkillers on the bedside table.

He didn’t know who was more idiotic. Him for being too ignorant to notice, or Jungsu for even caring about a worthless sack of shit like him.  
Youngwoon’s feet slowed in their rhythmic pounding of the forest floor until they ceased to move at all. He stood there, motionless, and it seemed to hit him all of a sudden, as hard as a ton of bricks.

He loved Jungsu, too. It wasn’t hatred he’d felt when he’d heard Jungsu say those same three words only a day before, it was shock. It was denial.

He started walking again, faster than before. And soon he was jogging, running, sprinting and he was out in the parking lot, feeling more alive than he’d ever felt before. He’d had girlfriends, lots, and he’d had sex with more girls than he could count; but he’d never been in love. His chest felt like fire and a stupidly wide grin spread across his face. He rested his hands on his knees and caught his breath, and he laughed to himself. How stupid he was. How terribly stupid.

Only when he stood back up did he realise how true that was.

The supermarket stood about 30 feet from where he stood, the neon lettering above the doors swinging precariously on its hinges. The front windows were smashed and a pile of shopping carts blocked the entrance.

But that wasn’t where he was looking.

There were around 40 of those things meandering about the parking lot – or at least they were meandering about before he starting making a scene. Now they were looking right at him.

And now they were coming straight for him.

Why had he started laughing? Why had he ran straight out of the woods instead of hanging back and waiting? He spat on the concrete in frustration and bared his teeth mockingly at the creatures shambling slowly towards him.

And he ran.

He sprinted through the parking lot, weaving through outstretched arms and groping, clammy fingers; and he leapt through the wide, shattered window of the supermarket, landing on his side with a crunch, the broken glass embedding itself in his skin. The adrenaline coursing through his veins didn’t let him feel the pain, though, and he was back on his feet in seconds. He grabbed tins of canned fruit and soups and beans and whatever else he could get his hands on, whatever he could fit in his arms.

When he turned to go back the way he’d come, he stopped short. They were there, shambling in that awkward way of theirs, their twisted feet crunching on the broken glass, slipping on the linoleum.

‘Shit,’ he breathed, ‘Shit, shit, shit!’

He ran the other way. There had to be a staff room, a back door, anything. His shoes slipped on the smooth, polished linoleum floors as he ran down aisle after aisle and they   
squeaked as the moans of the approaching undead grew nearer and nearer and louder and louder. He nearly screamed with joy at the sight of a door. ‘Staff only’ it read, and he threw himself at it, falling against crates and empty boxes. He dropped all the food in his arms and slammed the heavy fire door shut, hooking the latch and pushing the heavy crates up against it.

He was dripping with sweat by the time the door started to shake with the thunderous impact of dead-weight hands pounding relentlessly. Thud. Thud. Thud.  
Youngwoon looked around the room he was stood in for the first time. It was small and narrow, filled with crates. A single light bulb dangled from the high ceiling, flickering on and off.

There was no door.

It was a dead end.

He slumped against the crate he was sat on, the adrenaline kick fading rapidly only to be replaced by despair and a flesh-deep agony. He choked back a sob and looked for the source of the pain, and when he found it it took all his willpower not to vomit.

A deep, bloody gash was ripped into his arm, a shard of glass protruding from the wound. In fact, he was covered in blood. He’d been too terrified to realise he was bleeding, his mind too occupied by thoughts of escape. Every movement sent shocks of pain up his arm and he had to bite his lip to contain a scream of agony, throwing his head back at the white-hot pain engulfing his arm and it took all his willpower to not simply burst into tears. It was then, staring listlessly at the ceiling, that he saw his saviour; and if he believed in God that would’ve been the moment he thanked him.

A vent, wide and sturdy, hung from the ceiling. If he moved the crates, piled them atop of each other, he could climb in. He could escape.

He ripped the edge of his sweat-soaked shirt, tearing a strip off and rolling it up before putting it in his mouth and biting it like a gag. The pain was immense, and climbing through that vent was going to rip his arm to pieces. He didn't want to end up biting his tongue, bleeding out on his way to safety, did he? He stood and went for the nearest crate, and as he did he knew it was the right decision to gag himself. His jaw clenched like a vice at the strain on his arm from pushing the heavy crates, and tears ran down his cheeks. The pain and the sound of the undead moaning and roaring and screaming only pushed him on, though. He couldn’t die here. If he died, what would happen to Jungsu?   
Would he come looking for him only to find him torn to pieces? Or would those things find him first?

Yes. He needed to live. For Jungsu, if nothing else.his eyes. He inhaled deeply, his nose buried in the fabric, a scent like beer and sweat and Youngwoon.

-

Before he knew it, he’d stacked the crates high enough for him to reach the vent; and he gathered the tins and cans and bottles back into his arms, shoving the candies he’d grabbed deep into his jeans pockets. He started climbing.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

A moan echoed through the hollow space and Youngwoon’s head snapped in its direction. The door was ajar, only slightly, the latch barely hanging on by its hinges. A gnarled, bloody face peered at him through the tiny gap, its lipless mouth seeming to smile at him.

He moved faster, the pain in his arm was a million miles away now. The only thought on his mind was Jungsu. The moans grew louder and the gap was big enough for them to fit their arms through now; at least five of them were squeezing through, their dead eyes watching Youngwoon’s ascent.

He was three-quarters of the way up when the latch snapped off; and if he hadn’t taken a leak in the woods before he set off, he was pretty sure he’d have pissed himself right then. The crates pushed up against the door didn’t hold for long, and the room was filled with them in seconds. He pushed the food into the vent before him, sparing a glance at the swarm gathered below; their arms reaching up to him as if in worship, slack jaws grinding and snapping, hungry for his flesh.

He didn’t look for long.

He heaved himself up into the vent and he only just managed to fit. His arm was crushed beneath his weight and he cried out, but he didn’t stop. He crawled on through, listening to the creaks and groans his weight was eliciting from the old vents, and soon – but not soon enough – he was outside again. He dropped to the floor, gathered the food in his arms once again and started off for the woods.

But he stopped.

His arm. What if it got infected? He was losing so much blood, still. Jungsu could fix him up, but only if he had the materials. He had to go back. They’d still be in that room, surely, and the pharmacy was right at the entrance of the store. He’d make it.

He hoped.

\---

It had been two hours since Youngwoon had left. Jungsu was curled up in the passenger seat, still, but he’d fallen asleep after waiting so long. A duvet was draped over his thin frame and Youngwoon’s jacket was balled up tightly in his hands. He was dreaming of his parents, dreaming of when he’d gone to visit them only weeks before the world went to hell. He missed his parents, his dog, his home. He even missed his dorm and his roommate, Jongwoon, even though he snored terribly and constantly forgot to flush the toilet, he was a good guy. He wondered if he was still alive – him and that Ryeowook boy. Didn’t he go to find Shindong, too? Something must’ve happened, then, if Shindong ended up alone.

He didn’t think about Heechul and the others. It was too painful. If he kept thinking about them he’d never stop being miserable. He had to cheer up to keep himself sane. He had to smile for Youngwoon. He had to be thankful he was alive.

He awoke with a startled scream at the noise of the the drivers door slamming shut, and his eyes flew open to land upon the sight of a very bloody and sweaty Youngwoon. Red faced and breathless, he looked ready to pass out. His eyes were unfocused as he looked at Jungsu and pointed weakly to his bare arm.

And he passed out.

Jungsu’s heart was in his mouth when he saw Youngwoon's wound. At the sight of blood he’d instantly assumed he’d been bitten, but he didn’t know if this was better or worse. A dangerously large shard of glass stuck out of Youngwoon’s bloody arm; a wide, long gash torn from his elbow to his wrist. His thoughts blurred and hurried in his head. He was losing blood fast; it could get infected; he had no medical equipment, no alcohol to disinfect it. What could he do?

His eyes flickered from Youngwoon’s paling face to his wound and back again, frantic and panicked until he caught sight of the bag in Youngwoon’s lap. It looked as though he’d brought the whole pharmacy with him. Half of the antibiotics he’d never even heard of, but it was enough. More than enough. He just had to work fast.

-

He’d bandaged Youngwoon up as well as he could before climbing into the back of the van, pushing a mattress down onto the floor. He set to work about unwrapping all of the bedding before struggling with Youngwoon's dead-weight over his shoulder, letting him flop onto the mattress. It was nearing 8pm when he’d finished, and he’d been sat in the drivers seat for nearly half an hour since; slowly making his way through a tin of canned apricots he’d found in the bag Youngwoon had brought back. The guilt had set in deeply at the realisation of just how much danger he’d put Youngwoon in by sending him out there alone; and if he hadn’t have been staring sullenly out at the darkness he wouldn’t have caught a glimpse at the flash of headlights glowing on the road just outside the field they were parked in.

His breath caught and he nearly choked on an apricot, setting the can on the dashboard and twisting the key in the ignition with lightning speed. He hastily flicked the lorries headlights on; it didn’t matter if it was dangerous to do so, there was someone else out there and he didn’t have Youngwoon to tell him what to do. He had to take initiative, and this was a chance.

He sped out across the field, turning wildly into the main road and heading in the same direction as that car. The lorry was a bitch to drive, but he got the hang of it and soon the other car was in sight. He considered sounding the horn to catch their attention, but decided against it. They seemed to notice him, anyway. It wasn’t long before the cars break lights flashed red, and Jungsu slowed the lorry to a stop.

As he sat there it seemed like an eternity before the driver stepped out. Thoughts flashed through his over-tired mind as the stranger approached, their hands raised before their face to shield their eyes from the lorries bright headlights. What if this person was a lunatic? A murderer?

But when the stranger had made their way to the driver’s side of the lorry, relief flooded through him and a smile broke out across his face. He realised just how long it had been since he’d smiled like this.

‘Donghae!’ he cried, not bothering to control his joy at the familiar face of his younger friend. At the confused, yet equally joyous look on the other man's face he realised his window wasn’t rolled down.

‘Jungsu!’ Donghae beamed up at him when the cold air hit Jungsu’s face. It felt like he hadn’t seen this boy in years, not just mere days.

'Is it just you, Donghae?’ he asked. Donghae was always happy and cheerful but there was no way he could get this far, see all the terrible things that had happened to his friends, and still have that same innocent look in his eyes. Not if he was alone.

‘No. Hyukjae’s in the car. Kibum was with us, too, but-‘ he looked away for a second and his smile dropped. ‘What about you? Are you with Heechul?’

Jungsu bit his lip. ‘No. Youngwoon is asleep in the back.’ he nodded his head toward Donghae’s car. ‘Where are you headed?’

Donghae smiled again. ‘We were listening to the radio yesterday. It had been static all day but then we’d heard someone’s voice. They were talking about a camp.’ His face seemed to light up then, ‘They say there are survivors! You can follow us, unless you have somewhere else to go?’

‘No, we’ll follow you.’ he smiled down at Donghae, who nodded erratically before bouncing back over to his car. But as he wound the window up again, he couldn’t help but wonder if they were really going to find anyone alive after all.

They drove on for a little over 7 hours, stopping frequently for toilet breaks and to steer wrecked cars out of their way. Youngwoon still hadn’t woken up by the time they’d found somewhere safe to sleep, which was a good thing; even though he felt terribly lonely without his moody face around it was better than him fidgeting around and picking at his bandages like he knew he would.

He ran his thumb over his chin, grimacing at the stubble that prickled his skin. He’d have to shave soon, he’d never suited stubble. A toothbrush would be nice, too. His teeth felt like they were rotting off by the second; in fact he felt dirty all over. He’d kill for a shower. He pulled his jeans off and tiptoed into the back of the lorry, gently lying himself beside Youngwoon. He made a point to lie on the edge of the mattress, though, just in case Youngwoon decided to use him as a teddybear again; but before he could get comfortable a warm hand pulled him against Youngwoon’s chest and he gasped as the younger man nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

He must’ve been hyperventilating because Youngwoon told him to shut up and sleep. And he did. Better than ever before.

He was safe, now, in Youngwoon’s embrace, with his friend’s just outside. He was on his way to safety.

He had nothing to worry about that night, only Heechul.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Jungsu, Youngwoon, Donghae and Hyukjae's timeline continues directly after the helicopter incident whilst everyone else's timeline is 3 months in the future. Just wanted to clear that up!)

_May, 2018_

Sungmin breathed a deep, desperate, drowning breath, his lungs expanding impossibly in his small chest. His body spasmed from the shock of waking up, of breathing real air. He opened his eyes wide and squinted as the white light flooded in, flickering from darkness to fluorescence and back again. He was lying down on something hard and cold, the feel of metal beneath his fingertips. He willed himself to sit up but every muscle protested. He’d never felt so weak.

He tried to listen instead of see, because all he could see from his position was white (then black, then white, then black). He couldn’t tell if he was looking at the ceiling or the floor. From the rhythmic flickering of the light, he knew he was at least in a room. At first, he’d thought he was in a coma, some suspended state of unconsciousness. A dream. But this seemed real. He could taste the dryness of his mouth, feel the ache of his muscles, smell the scent of disinfectant and blood.

He heard someone cough to his left, a painful sounding cough. He wasn’t alone, then. He tried to speak, whisper, mumble but all that came out was a weak breath followed by a throat grazing cough. He coughed for at least forty seconds, so much he nearly heaved. A strained laugh rang out in the seemingly empty room, he guessed it was the guy who’d been hacking his lungs up a few minutes before.

‘Can you move?’ he said. His voice was familiar, but it was sore-sounding and weak. As if he hadn’t had a sip of water in weeks.

He tried to answer, feeling the word burn as it left his voice box. ‘No.’ he said. His teeth felt grimy.

‘Me neither.’ he could hear this man's breathing, now, and he couldn’t understand how he hadn’t heard it before. His breaths were deep and wheezing and loud in the silence. He tried to sit up again, and felt the same ache of protest, instead trying to move his toes and his fingers, yielding better results. He guessed the other guy was doing the same, because he was making quite a racket, groaning as if he was trying to pick up a car.

He managed to lift his neck after a while, enough to tilt it to the side before it fell back onto what he was lying on, the pain from movement becoming too much. He knew why that voice was familiar, now.

Beside him, about five metres away, lay Kim Heechul. Naked, but he tried not to focus on that part. He, like him, was lying on a sort of metal table, medical equipment strewn about him on small tables. He was wired up to machines and an empty saline drip hung above him. He looked pale, paler than he usually was. His lips were nearly blue and dark circles lay beneath his tired looking eyes. He had a beard.

He closed his eyes, he felt too exhausted to keep them open. How long had they been here? He could vaguely remember being on the ground and seeing those men in black take Kyuhyun away. Was it them? Did they take them here?

If so, why?

He heard Heechul snort, and he opened his eyes again, seeing him looking back at him.

‘You have a beard.’ he smirked. It looked like it took a lot of effort to do, but he was doing it anyway. He looked relieved, and some of the exhaustion in his face seemed to fade now that he’d seen who he was talking to. One day of vague companionship was enough to feel a little safer. They barely knew each other yet in that moment it felt as if he was talking to an old friend.

‘So do you.’ Sungmin croaked back. He could move his neck now, and he looked back up at the ceiling. He tried his legs and his arms once again and felt his strength start to return, albeit slowly.

‘You’re naked.’ Heechul snorted again.

‘So are you.’

‘What?’ Heechul yelled, sitting up stock straight. The revelation of his nudity seemed to shock his body into response. His face changed from shock to horror in a matter of seconds.

‘What is it?’ Sungmin asked, trying to tilt his head forward to see what Heechul was looking at.

Heechul didn’t respond, and he managed to heave himself up into a sitting position. When he looked around, he understood why Heechul hadn’t answered him immediately.

There were rows of beds, like the ones he and Heechul were sat upon, filling up the long, pure white room. All were attached to machines, but none were occupied. They were the only people in there. At the end of the room was a wall-sized mirror, reflecting their equally naked, bearded forms.

Sungmin had watched enough CSI to know that wasn’t a mirror.

‘There’s someone watching us.’ he whispered.

Heechul nodded. His hand slowly roamed his arm before he suddenly ripped out one of the wires attaching him to the machine. He let out a hiss of pain through grit teeth and proceeded to do it to both arms. There were two wires protruding from the side of his head, just above his ear.

Sungmin had to look away. The scream was enough to tell him how gruesome it was. And the worst part was, he knew he had to do the same.

Five or so minutes later they were both detached from the machines, standing unsteadily on their own feet. There were lab coats hanging off three pegs in the far corner of the room, and they wrapped themselves in them, clothing their nude bodies. He checked the machines as they made their way to the front of the room, and all of them were off. Even the ones they were attached to. Maybe that was why they’d woken up?

The lights were still flickering. A power shortage, maybe? Either that or it was deliberate. Sungmin hoped for the power shortage. Heechul stood at the large glass one-way window, his face pressed up against it as he tried to see inside. Apparently he couldn’t see anything, because he started yelling and pounding on the glass.

There was a door to the left of the window, but it was sealed shut. There was a pin-access module on the door. How could they get out without a pin code?

'It's locked.' He sighed hopelessly. He turned to see what Heechul's reaction would be to the bad news, but the older man only march over to one of the machines, ripping out one of the wires before returning to Sungmin's side with a maniacal grin.

Heechul nudged him aside, holding the wire in his hand, a metal nub at the end of it, and Sungmin watched in awe as he picked skilfully at the card-swipe access until it let out a sudden bang. Sparks and smoke exploded into his face and he choked, stepping back in shock. The door buzzed as it opened.

The situation was too tense to even bother wondering how Heechul knew how to pick a lock.

They stepped out with caution into an empty hallway, doors much like the one they’d just exited lining the walls. Hazard signs were printed on the white linoleum floors, smeared blood obscuring the words. The fluorescent lights above them were still flickering. White, red, white, red, white...

Sungmin didn’t want to think about what had happened here, or why their machines had been turned off, or why they’d been brought here.

He wanted to leave. He wanted to leave as soon as fucking possible. And sparing a glance at Heechul's wide eyed terror, it seemed like he did too.

  
\---

Kyuhyun awoke slowly, as if he was floating to the surface of a deep pool. His mind was murky and his limbs were weak. He couldn’t move. When he opened his eyes, he was in darkness.

Where was he? The last faint memory he had was of Sungmin’s arms wrapped around his neck as they kissed. Where were they when that happened? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember anything but that word. That name. Sungmin.

He was cold, he realised. Incredibly cold. It was terribly quiet; and he knew that wherever he was, he was alone. There was a strange taste in his mouth, like copper. He licked his lip on reflex and found he liked the taste. Blood. Had someone hit him? Had he fallen and cut his lip? It was sweet and bitter all at once. There was no feeling of horror or revulsion at the satisfaction he got from the taste, only calm acceptance. He wanted to taste more of it, this blood.

His mouth suddenly felt dry and he longed for something to drink. A cup of water, maybe.

Or maybe blood.

He lay there for a while on the cold floor he’d woken up on, still and silent. After some time he realised his arms and legs were bound together behind is back; and no matter how much he wriggled they wouldn’t come loose.

He fell asleep then, exhausted from squirming about. He repeated his name and tried to remember the taste of Sungmin’s mouth.

He awoke countless times after that, but he could never remember falling asleep. He was always in that dark, cold space; and he was tied up every time. Whenever he opened his eyes there was a fresh taste of blood on his tongue.

This went on countlessly, but one time he did not wake up in darkness. The room he lay in was dimly illuminated with a deep red light, spilling in through a steel door left ajar only a few metres from his feet. His bonds were cut and thick lines of rope lay severed beside his hands. They were pale in the red light and he could see the blue of his veins beneath the skin. There was dried blood beneath his fingernails.

The room was small, maybe only six feet in both width and length. It was empty. There were no windows. The only exit was that door, the red light glowing ominously on the metal. He stared at the exit; the door was the only thing separating him from the safety of this room and the red world outside of it. He was like a newborn babe opening his eyes for the first time. He had no recollection of anything but this room and the feel of Sungmin’s hair as he ran his fingers through it.

His instinct was to leave, but he was scared. He hesitated, building his courage, before getting to his feet. He fell over countless times before his legs found strength again. He felt as if he had never walked before; every step was small and awkward.

He ran his hands along the rough wall beside him to steady himself; and with wide eyes he pulled the door open wider, letting the red bleed out and colour his pale face.  
It made him think of blood. He started to salivate uncontrollably, his spit running down his chin and spotting the floor at his feet. He was naked but it didn’t bother him, in fact he didn’t even notice. For all he could remember, he’d always been naked.

He became dizzy as he walked out into the redness. His legs wobbled beneath him and he fell to the blood-coloured floor. All around him was a whirling world of cold, bright red. His eyes rolled back and the red was replaced with the almost familiar blackness once again.

\--

When his eyes opened this time, he was surrounded by red again. He lay on a floor and he was wet. All around him was wet. His nostrils flared and burned at the sickeningly strong scent of blood. He lay in it, he was covered in red. A sharp, high pitched roaring in his ears grew louder with every moment and he brought his hands to his mouth, licking and sucking the blood off every finger, every inch of skin he could reach until he was clean.

By the time his thirst was quenched his mind was clear enough to take in his surroundings. He wasn’t in the same room as before, nor was he in that roaring world of red. It was dimmer in here, the red. It flickered on and off, from a bright white to a deep crimson. There were metal tables all around him, trays and worktops and medical equipment drenched in blood.

How did he get here? Had he done this?

There were smeared, bloody handprints along the walls. There was a bright white glowing in the corner of the room and he crawled towards it on his hands and knees. It was a refrigerator. The door was open and six or seven packs of blood were left inside, the rest lay empty on the floor.

He reached inside and picked the closest one up, holding it in the light. There was a label stuck to it and he read it aloud, his tongue feeling large and unfamiliar in his mouth from lack of use.

‘Specimen A, Lee Sungmin.’

Sungmin. The word felt good on his tongue, just like the blood. He checked the other packs, but they weren’t what he wanted. The others read‘Specimen B, Kim Heechul’. He remembered the name, faintly, but he didn’t care about it.

He wanted Sungmin, not Heechul. He held the packet of blood tightly in his bloodied hands, close to his chest, and got to his feet. Sungmin. He needed to find this Sungmin. But what did Sungmin look like? He knew it was a person, just like he was. He remembered short, jet black hair, silky beneath his fingers, plump red lips against his own.

He walked out of the room, back out into that blinding red. It was a long, narrow hallway he stood in. There were doors lining both walls and almost every single one had a hazard symbol pasted on.

He walked down the red-tinted hallway and watched his feet paint bloody footsteps on the floor. He felt cold again. He needed clothes. He kept walking, his wet feet slapping against the linoleum and echoing in the ghostly silence around him.

It was only minutes before he came across an open door and he went inside. It was dark in this room apart from a big, square window of white at the front. There were lots of small screens around it, each showing different shots of empty metal tables.

All apart from two.

Kyuhyun came to stand before the large window in the centre. It showed a long, brightly lit white room filled with rows of metal operating tables, each one attached to a machine. Only two tables, right at the back of the room, were occupied. Those were the only tables whose machines were beeping.

The two smaller screens showed faces that made his eyes bulge. The force of memories rising to the surface made his head ache violently. The first face was familiar, but not as striking as the second. It was a man, his feminine face clashing with the dark hair growing from his defined chin messily. His pouty red lips were parted slightly, dark against his pale skin. He had long, thick eyelashes, closed and casting shadows. His jet black hair was greasy and unkept, fanning out behind him on the table.

The other screen made Kyuhyun’s heart skip a beat. He recognised this face more. He knew it better than the other mans.

‘Sungmin’ he whispered. Yes, this was Sungmin. He looked older with facial hair; but his pale, babyish face was just as he remembered it. He could almost feel those plump red lips against his own once again.

He must’ve stood there for hours just watching him sleep, mesmerised, before he looked away. There was a control panel in front of him covered with buttons and switches he had no idea how to operate. He ran his fingers over them, searching for something he recognised. The feel of buttons beneath his fingertips felt familiar and comfortable; and as he brushed against an illuminated red switch, he regarded it for a second. The word ‘null’ was written beneath it. He flipped it.

He watched and waited for something to happen, but they only lay there still, motionless.

He glanced around the room again, searching for something to cover his bare body with. There was a chair tipped on its side beside the door and he pulled it over before going through the drawers beneath the control panel.

Torches, keys, an old sandwich, paper, pens, pencils and in the last, clothes.

Lots of clothes, actually. They were folded and covered in clear plastic, labelled just as the blood sat in his lap. He pulled the plastic covered clothes out, looking at every label. There were a few he didn’t know, names he’d never heard, but then he found his own.

‘Specimen Z, Cho Kyuhyun.’

A clean, white shirt and a pair of black jeans were inside, and he dressed himself quickly. He felt better with clothes on. He wiggled his bare toes before sitting down again. He’d have to find some shoes later.

He looked back to the main screen. They were moving. He watched them silently, entranced. They were talking about beards and being naked. He could hardly hear them, but the sound of Sungmin’s voice was like electricity. He watched them sit up and pull the wires out of their bodies in turn, standing on wobbly legs.

Sungmin padded over to the corner of the room, taking one of the coats that hung there and wrapping it around himself. Heechul, however, came straight towards Kyuhyun in all his naked glory; and when he pressed his face against the glass with a manic, crazy look in his eyes, Kyuhyun almost thought he could see him. He started to slam his fists against the glass and he growled in frustration as Sungmin handed him a coat to cover his nudeness.

They couldn’t see him. Sungmin was so close; if the glass wasn’t there he could’ve reached through and touched him. But when they left the room, the lights died out. The room went black. His reflection glowed on the dark glass.

His curly hair was tousled and messy atop his head and his face was bloody. He seemed to glow, his skin was pale enough that he almost mistook himself for a ghost. His face was thin and his lips were cracked, but his eyes were what shocked him the most. So blue, terribly blue. And so pale they were a mere shade off white. They glinted off the glass, menacing, and he was scared.

He looked away. He didn’t want Sungmin to see him like this, he thought. He didn’t know why. Maybe he’d never want to press his plump, red lips against Kyuhyun’s again? Or maybe he’d never let him run his fingers through his inky black hair?  
He sat alone in that chair, in the darkness, and he sobbed.

-

 

The door clicked shut behind them, a loud noise in such thick silence, and Heechul got the feeling they were not as alone as they had first thought. He glanced at Sungmin stood beside him; a dim red light casting an eerie glow on his pale, frightened face. His eyes were wide and glazed, unseeing as if the shock of waking up in this alien place had shocked him into another world.

Something caught Heechul’s eye and he looked beyond Sungmin to the hallway behind, feeling a raw pang of horror strike him at the sight of bloody footprints leading to the door beside the room they’d just left. Fresh, wet blood. He stopped breathing for a moment, stopped thinking. He simply listened. A shrill, manic sound echoed in his ears. Was someone crying? It was almost hysteric, slipping into a humourless laughter, a wailing. His skin turned cold.

‘Do you hear that?’ he breathed, noticing the way Sungmin snapped out of his daze to look at him with panic in his eyes.

‘Hear what?’

‘Nothing, never mind.’ He turned away from the footprints, settling a hand gently on Sungmin’s back to nudge him in the right direction. ‘Let’s get out of here.’ Sungmin gave a timid smile, a shaky nod, and let Heechul lead him down the hallway.

The hallway was long and seemed to wind round in a circle; a high ceiling and bare, white walls accented with the clinical scent of antiseptic. Operating tables stood empty and abandoned along the way, some overturned with their wheels spinning and spinning endlessly. They walked past door after door, some open and some closed. They’d stopped at one of the open doors, risking a glance inside only to be met with the overpowering stench of blood. The walls, the tabletops, everything was drenched in red. Sungmin had been ready to faint, but Heechul slapped him back to his senses and pulled him along. They didn’t dare look inside the other rooms.

They turned a corner, the only corner they’d came upon so far, and found themselves looking down a dead-end. There were no more doors here, only an elevator, and the buttons glowed a dim orange. Heechul found it terribly ominous, for some reason, though it may have had something to do with what surrounded it. There were drag marks along the floor, leading up to the doors but originating from nowhere – they started where Heechul and Sungmin stood. The walls were pocked with holes that made it seem as if there’d been gunfire – and lots of it. Bloody smears glistened on the metal doors of the elevator, bloody fingerprints on the buttons. A wheelchair lay on its side, its rusted, blood-splattered wheels spinning with a squeak that echoed too loud in the silence.

‘I don’t like this.’ Sungmin whispered. Heechul held a finger to his lips and shushed him. He walked toward the elevator with slow, cautious steps; his feet making wet sounds as they met the floor. Slowly, warily he reached out for the down button, the orange glow illuminating his fingertips.

He drew in a sharp breath and leapt back half a metre at the sound of movement, a groaning behind the doors. The numbers above the elevator started to ascend.

‘What’s wrong?’ Sungmin asked, struggling to whisper over the panic that threatened to raise his voice to a shriek.

‘I didn’t push the button.’ Heechul said, and he looked at Sungmin, watched his eyes grow wide with understanding and the fear that accompanied it.

Heechul felt his blood rush with the pounding of his heart, his muscles tensing beneath his skin, ready to pounce. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and he realised something was different, wrong. The feeling was lost, though, as the doors opened with a loud ‘ping’, replaced by the animalistic instinct to tear apart whatever stood inside.  
He sprung at the doors as they opened, hitting something heavy and knocking it to the ground. He felt a body beneath him, and he straddled its chest, his eyes clouded with unreasonable rage. He punched and scratched the body beneath him with a strength he had never before possessed. He could feel the blood on his knuckles, a distant voice in the background dulled by the sound of his fists meeting flesh. All he saw was red.

The voice grew louder in his ears, clearer. Screaming, pleading.

‘Stop it, hyung!’ Sungmin wailed, and the rage receded. His fists became leaden and heavy, pulled tight to his sides. Sungmin’s arms were restraining him, pulling him away. ‘It’s Hankyung, hyung, It’s Hankyung!’

His vision cleared, his blood cooled, and he was straddling a man’s chest once again. Blood foamed at his bruised, split lips; swollen cheeks started to turn a bluey-purple and blood trickled down his forehead. He looked down at his hands, felt the ache in them, saw the skin torn on his knuckles and he trembled. What was he? What had they done to him?

He looked at Sungmin, saw the terror in the teens eyes, and he swallowed shakily. ‘I didn’t mean to.’ He said weakly, ‘My body just moved… I didn’t mean to.’ His eyes rested on Hankyung’s swollen face and he whispered to himself this time, ‘I didn’t mean to.’

Sungmin let go of Heechul slowly, moving to Hankyung’s side. He pressed two fingers to the side of his neck, checking for a pulse. A shaky sigh of relief left his lips. ‘He’s just unconscious.’

Heechul would’ve been relieved at that, but his attention was elsewhere. There were eyes on his back, cold eyes, dangerous eyes. He felt them watching him, felt them leave him to fall on Sungmin and he turned sharply to look behind them. A shadow retreated around the corner, pale blue eyes flashing for a second before they were gone completely.  
‘We need to leave,’ he said, still looking away. He turned back to Sungmin; eyes filled with urgency and hissed once again, ‘We need to leave!’

\----

Kyuhyun stood around the corner to Heechul and Sungmin; his pale, clammy face pressed to the cold smoothness of the wall. His blue eyes watched Heechul attack the figure in the elevator. The stench of blood was all around him but he felt no compulsion to taste it as he had before. This wasn’t the blood he wanted, the blood he thirsted for.

He gazed upon Heechul with awe, finding the strength in those pale, weak-looking arms frightening. The way in which he hit with such abandon shocked him to recall how Heechul had appeared in his memories; skinny and feminine with a sharp tongue and brittle personality. But not violent, at least not in this way. He had seemed full of empty threats before, using anger as a defence mechanism, but this seemed like an entirely different person.

A voice penetrated his thoughts, a plea from the other figure before him sending shivers down his spine. This was who he wanted, this was Sungmin. Pale and petite and delicious, he watched him tugging on the lab coat Heechul wore, watched him calm Heechul with a simple command. He watched him move, watched him breathe, watched his pulse beating where his neck joined his slender shoulder and he lusted for a taste of his blood, of his soft flesh beneath his fingers. He let out a shaky breath, ran his tongue over his cracked, dry lips and took a step from behind the wall. He could almost taste Sungmin in his mouth, could almost hear him moan in agony as he bit into his flesh.

A cold sensation seemed to rip through his core and he froze, every muscle tensing, every hair standing on end. He felt like a hunted deer and Heechul was the one holding the gun. He was seen and he was sensed. He retreated, seeing Heechul’s head swing toward him, wide eyes following him as he stepped back into the darkness.  
He realised then that there really was something different about Heechul. He was the same. The same as Kyuhyun.

-

They lifted Hankyung’s dead-weight with surprising ease, his arms slung around each of their shoulders to support his slumping body between them. As the elevator descended slowly, shakily, Heechul watched the numbers count down from six with mounting anticipation. His breath accelerated along with his heartbeat and his knuckles throbbed from pummelling Hankyung’s face. The elevator stopped with a jolt, rumbling as the doors slid open.

Sungmin’s eyes were as hard and serious as Heechul’s, an odd expression on such a naturally joyful face. They stepped out cautiously, ready to fight whatever awaited them, but there was nothing. This time they were truly alone.

They stood in a lobby of sorts; a high, domed ceiling and long glass windows filling the large space with sunlight. Corridors led to either side of them, a waiting area and reception before them.

‘What on Earth happened here?’ Sungmin asked as he regarded the building with a look of fear and disbelief. Chairs lay overturned, tables smashed and glass covered the floor. The drag marks were here, too. More, though, darker and thicker, coming from the corridors and leading to the exit. Red handprints coated the glass doors, smeared across the reception desk. Barely a single surface was untouched by the murky red colour of blood. But this was old blood, stale and crisp, the colour of burnt copper. The stench was bearable, barely noticeable compared to the room they looked inside before. There were more pock holes down here, too – great chunks of wall having crumbled apart from the lack of support.

‘I don’t know, but our Chinaman might.’ Heechul said, and he started to walk again, Sungmin falling into step with him. They moved Hankyung to where the seating area used to be, and Heechul let Hankyung’s full weight rest on Sungmin, his small frame dwarfed by the taller, heavier man. He pulled over a seat, motioned for Sungmin to sit him down.

‘Is it safe to stop here?’ Sungmin asked, looking nervously at the destruction around them, but Heechul dismissed his question with a scowl and a wave of his hand, kneeling in front of Hankyung.

You could barely recognise the man now, his face was completely swollen. Heechul touched his bruised cheek softly, almost tenderly before giving it a quick, sharp slap. Sungmin gawked at him, wondering whether he should step in in case Heechul lost it again, but stopped when the Chinese man stirred from unconsciousness with a groan and a murmur.  
Hankyung look blearily at Heechul’s face for a moment, collecting the thoughts that Heechul had slapped out of him. His clarity seemed to return briskly, though, as he straightened in his seat, swollen eyes peering at the two with confusion.

And then he frowned, a hand raised to his cheek, his mouth opened to yell. Heechul slapped his hand across Hankyung’s mouth, silencing the man.

‘Be quiet,’ he hissed, his eyes looking here and there as if to warn Hankyung of their dangerous position with only his facial expression. Hankyung shook his head, swatted Heechul’s hand away.

‘We’re fine here for a while,’ he said in a pained voice, ‘calm down.’

‘There’s someone upstairs, they were following us.’ Heechul protested, still on edge.

‘It’s Kyuhyun.’ Hankyung said with a dark look, suggesting something more. ‘Sungmin, stop.’ He hissed rising from his seat as Sungmin ran back to the elevator.

‘Why? Kyuhyun’s up there, still, right? Aren’t we going to take him with us?’ the teen asked, confused. His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to understand the meaning behind Hankyung’s pitiful expression.

‘Kyuhyun is…’ Hankyung paused, grasping for the softest words, ‘different, now. He’s dangerous.’

‘What do you mean?’ Sungmin persisted, his voice incredulous, ‘How is he dangerous?’

‘I’ll explain later, when we’re somewhere safe.’

‘But-‘

‘Sungmin, please.’ The Chinese man said with finality in his tone, and Sungmin glared at him. He was sulking visibly, his bottom lip sticking out childishly, but Hankyung was already walking out of the doors, his boots crunching on the broken, bloody glass.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, without a hint of sorrow in his voice, ‘but we have to get out of this place now. I’ll explain when we’re safe.’

Heechul followed close behind like a lost puppy, not feeling the glass beneath his feet. Hankyung stopped outside the doors for a moment, put a hand to his swollen face and gave Heechul a sour look.

‘You know,’ he mumbled, ‘that beard looks absolutely ridiculous on you.’ A sly smile spread over his puffy features at the look in Heechul’s eyes, but instead of pummelling him again, Heechul only laughed. They walked on as if the phenomenon was completely normal.

\---

Sungmin stepped out into the sunlight, taking a deep breath of the warm air. He couldn’t remember the world ever smelling so fresh. He felt the roughness of the sidewalk on his bare feet as he looked up at the clear, blue sky, letting the sun warm face. He looked at Hankyung, striding confidently ahead with Heechul in tow. Even Hankyung was acting odd, he thought; though it was less visible than the change he saw in Heechul. Heechul was stronger now, almost like an animal. Sungmin didn’t think he’d ever forget the look of Heechul’s eyes as he pummelled Hankyung’s face, how they seemed to glaze and glow. For a moment he’d imagined they’d changed colour completely – turning entirely blue.

He shook his head, dismissing the discomforting thoughts; instead he took a better look at the street they walked on, unfamiliar to his eyes. It was silent all around them and as they walked Sungmin realised it was too quiet; it seemed to close in around him, the sound of his footsteps inaudible over the suffocating sound of nothing. He could see Heechul talking to Hankyung, saw their lips moving in conversation, but he heard nothing. Not a breath of wind or the sound of his own breathing. But then there was a beating, dull and soft, and it grew louder and louder until it was a booming drum in his ears.

‘Why is it so warm?’ He blurted out, his breathing heavy and strained. ‘It’s still February, right? It should be colder than this, surely.’

‘It’s May.’ Hankyung said matter-of-factly, and Heechul’s eyes bulged.

'’What?’ he choked out, his face a picture of total confusion.

‘It’s May.’ Hankyung repeated with that same irritating flatness that grated Sungmin’s nerves terribly. Heechul seemed too shocked to question the revelation any more, simply staring at Hankyung with his big doe-eyes, his mouth hanging slightly slack, unsightly.

Hankyung couldn’t be lying though. Why would he? Had they really been asleep for three whole months? But why, what happened after the roof? After Kyuhyun bit him?  
He touched his neck at the thought. His wound was gone completely. Why? He should’ve died from that, surely – Kyuhyun tore half his shoulder out, for God’s sake.

The thought of Kyuhyun made a chill run up his spine, and he stopped walking. The silence was back, the drumming in his ears louder than before. There were eyes on his back, cold, terrifying eyes. He turned, looking around wildly. Nothing. Who was it? A zombie, Kyuhyun? He didn’t know which he should be more frightened of.

‘We’re being watched.’ Hankyung said, and Sungmin jumped. The drumming left him, replaced by the sounds of paper and leaves rustling in the wind. Hankyung and Heechul had also stopped, he saw. ‘They won’t move until its dark, keep walking.’

Sungmin bristled at the command. Hankyung made him feel like a child in the way he spoke to him and he would’ve happily smacked him for his rudeness, but instead he lowered his gaze, moving his feet to walk slowly behind the Chinese man and his puppy. The way Heechul was looking at him was discomforting and he tried to find something else to look at.

The road they walked along was long and empty but for the litter covering the ground. Scraps of paper and plastic bags blew on the breeze, an almost ghostly sound in the desolation around them. There were no cars, no people, no zombies, nothing of what he remembered from before waking up in this place. All that remained of the apocalypse he left behind were the once-blazing skeletons of skyscrapers standing silent against the deep-blue sky. And as his feet met the warm pavement, felt the tiny stones irritate his feet; it dawned on him that it all really happened. His friends, his family, they were all dead. Even Shindong.

The thought of Kyuhyun invaded his mind once again; he recalled those last, long moments before the world turned to a thick, blinding black. His sightless blue eyes, his teeth in his flesh, his cold lips against his skin – yet he still felt love for him, a warmth in his chest; and it was a conscious struggle not to turn and run back inside, to see if Kyuhyun was really alive back there, watching him, waiting for him. Why did Hankyung say he was dangerous? The Chinese man knew things, he could tell. Three months had passed and somehow Hankyung had lived them, somehow he’d escaped the fate that befell him and Heechul. He had so many questions to ask, but he knew Hankyung would only dismiss them in that flat, emotionless way, as he had been doing since Heechul slapped him back to his senses. He pulled the lab coat tight around his naked body, letting out a heartfelt sigh and catching up with the two walking ahead.

\-------

Though the ground was littered with rubbish and broken glass, his feet felt no worse than he could remember. The sky had turned a pale grey, now, and Sungmin guessed it was nearly evening when they arrived at Hankyung’s destination. They stood before a large, metal-plated mobile home, and Sungmin couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Was this what Hankyung had lived in these past three months? For all the ‘safety’ he’d sworn of Sungmin had expected to be taken to a fortress, not a camper van. It was large, yes, but did Hankyung really expect them all to live inside it? And for how long?

The sound of keys chimed from beside him as Hankyung unlocked the side door. He gestured for Heechul and Sungmin to enter first, and they did, before he climbed in afterwards.

Seeing the inside of Hankyung’s ‘safe house’ did nothing to quell Sungmin’s disappointment, though it did make him believe that maybe they really had been asleep for three months. They were crammed into a small kitchen, filled with rubbish and dirt and old food. The sink was overflowing with unwashed plates, the oven covered in scorched rice. He’d always taken Hankyung for the tidy type, but apparently he’d judged him incorrectly. Corrugated foil covered the windshield at the front of the van, the only light coming from a small lamp attached to the bottom of a cupboard. A ragged sheet of cloth hung at the end of the kitchen, and Hankyung motioned for them to go through.

And when Sungmin lifted the cloth, he allowed some of his disappointment to ebb away, because what he saw left him awe-struck. The room was small and cluttered; a mattress slumped in the corner, covered with moth-eaten bed-clothes and surrounded by books and plates and clothes. The walls were covered with sticky notes and sheets of paper, a large map taking up the whole wall above the mattress; on it were multiple coloured lines, scribbles and hastily jotted notes, pushpins dotted all over the place. But what caught his eye immediately were the multiple monitors fastened to the far wall, a larger one in the centre; all showing different angles of the street outside, casting a blue-ish glow on the entire room. Wires and cables covered whatever floor still remained, plugs and extensions hidden under food packets and underwear. Hankyung had been busy.

‘There are bunks in the next room,’ Hankyung said, following Sungmin and Heechul into the blue room and pointing at the door barely visible behind the maps and papers, 'Sorry about the mess. I’ll find you both some clean clothes – feel free to sit down.’

Hankyung lifted up the map and pushed open the hidden door, closing it behind him and leaving Sungmin and Heechul alone. Sungmin tiptoed around the junk on the floor and sat gingerly on Hankyung’s mattress, and Heechul followed suit. They sat there for a few minutes, silent. Hankyung could be heard moving in the next room, but that was the only sound Sungmin could hear. Heechul was completely silent, and it unnerved him. He didn’t know the older man well enough to understand why, either, and it was much too awkward to strike up a conversation so he simply looked around the room again. His eyes fell upon a black backpack beneath the pillow he leant against, straps hanging over the side of the mattress.

He found himself shocked once again.

It wasn’t the backpack, he wasn’t that easily amazed; it was what was falling out of it. The blade of a knife glowed blue and sharp beside the handle of a pistol – and there seemed to be much more inside the backpack. Hankyung entered the room again, then, a bundle of clothes in each hand. As Hankyung leant down to hand Sungmin a handful, the teen gave him a questioning, suspicious look, asked: ‘Why do you have a gun?’

Hankyung paused, and for a moment he seemed surprised, eyes flicking over to his pillow for a moment before looking back at Sungmin. But it was lost in a second. ‘I’ll explain everything in a moment.’ He dropped the clothes onto Sungmin’s lap, straightened and handed the rest to Heechul. ‘You two should get cleaned up. The bathroom’s through there…’ he gestured to a panel barely visible in the dim blue light. ‘It’s small, but there’s running water. Take your time.’

When Sungmin stood to object to Hankyung’s obvious avoidance of his questions, the Chinese man turned his back.

Bastard, he thought. He scowled at his broad back, following Heechul into the bathroom grudgingly.

\-----

The bathroom was indeed tiny, a mere cupboard with a toilet, sink and shower. Heechul shaved and showered first, leaving his hair long and dripping before freeing up the room for Sungmin and returning to where Hankyung was; still retaining his uncharacteristic silence.

Sungmin stood at the sink, looking into the mirror and staring with disbelief at the man that looked back at him. Three months with only tubes to feed him nutrients had really taken its toll. His once golden skin was a pale, sickly shade of yellow. Dark shadows hung below his sunken eyes and his cheekbones jutted out of his too-slim face. He washed his face, shaved his facial hair and cut the long, lank black hair that had grown down to his shoulders while he’d slept. It didn’t suit him, the hair. It was greasy and unkept, taking the softness from his naturally cherub-like face. His rounded cheekbones and soft pink lips were lost now, making him seem older and harsher in his looks. The old Sungmin was gone, he thought. Times had changed and he had changed too.

He slipped the lab coat off his shoulders and stepped into the shower, letting the steamy spray of hot water soothe his sore muscles. He hadn’t moved in so long that they’d grown stiff and tense and he let the heat relieve his aches for a brief moment before drying and dressing in the tasteless clothes Hankyung had provided him with. The shirt was off-white and too big, the jeans scuffed and frayed but only a tiny bit too tight.

When he returned to Hankyung and Heechul, they were sat on the mattress in silence. Hankyung noticed his entrance and beckoned him to sit. ‘Get comfortable,’ he said, ‘It’s a long story.’

-

He was numb and cold and damp. The left side of his body was pressed against something hard, and he could feel cool concrete on his face. There was a dripping sound and he listened to it intently. It was the only sound he could hear other than his own shaky, shallow breaths. Were his eyes open? All he saw was darkness, thick and unrelenting. He moved his fingers but they were stiff and cold, his toes too. He gave up, then, yielding to the cold damp blackness around him; instead he lay there, recalling how he’d ended up in this place.

There were faces flashing behind his eyelids, smoke and fire and blood; but one face kept recurring. Fair and slender with wide, excited eyes and lips that made Hankyung’s heart thud with every word. He remembered sitting beside him for a long time, just watching. When was this? There were other people there, too, a large hall and desks covered with paper and ink. College. He shaped the word in his cotton-filled mouth.

Yes, college. He’d watched that boy for years, hadn’t he? Watched how the world seemed to shape itself around him, how he could make people smile with a witty remark another person would get a punch for. Saw how lonely he was, even in a crowd, and how his gaze was everywhere but on Hankyung. He wriggled as he reminisced, loosening the bonds he felt wrapped tightly around his wrists and ankles. Heechul, wasn’t it? That was his name. Heechul, Heechul, Heechul. He whispered it to the darkness with a voice dry and rasping, tasting it on his tongue.

He tried to grasp at the threads of memory tied loosely around his mind, anything that wasn’t Heechul, but every thought flashed by too fast and he was back to his secret obsession in moments. He felt his chest fill with heat as images of Heechul flashed by, the memory of sheer thrill when he’d woken up with the man by his side. Why did that happen? Where were they? Oh, of course. The world. It had burned to cinders and ash and left him nothing but his own resourcefulness. He’d turned his workplace into as much of a fortress as he could, and by some twist of fate it had lured Heechul in too. There were others, he could taste their names on the back of his tongue. Jungsu? Jungsu. Youngwoon, Kyuhyun, Sungmin. Yes, he remembered. That was what went wrong. If he’d left Kyuhyun and Sungmin to fend for themselves maybe he’d still be with Heechul.

Jungsu was intelligent, useful, and Youngwoon was strong. Kyuhyun was stubborn and Sungmin was in love. He’d never trusted them, not from the moment he let them inside. They were a threat. The moment Sungmin walked into the restaurant that morning, alone, he knew something had happened, and from the guilt in Sungmin’s painfully readable face he knew just what that was. The helicopter, how could he have been such a fool? It was Heechul. The sheer joy he saw in his face made him believe that maybe this was just what they thought it to be – safety. A fool he was.

They had sat on that rooftop, Heechul looking at the sky and Hankyung looking at Heechul; and Hankyung had wrapped an arm around Heechul’s shoulders, his heart pounding like a man on drugs.

Idiot. He’d always been smart, quiet and calculating. The slightest sign of affection from someone he lusted after and it was gone in a heartbeat. The look on Heechul’s face as the dart flew into his neck had broken Hankyung’s heart, that millisecond before he was poisoned himself, the way Heechul seemed to fall in slow motion, his eyes fixed on Hankyung in a silent plea for help.

He opened his eyes. The room was no longer dark, instead it was cast in a dim greyness, different shades playing off the walls around him. He was lying on the floor of a small cell. There was no window, a single door directly in front of him. Empty. The bonds about his wrists and ankles were loose enough to slip out of and he stretched his legs and arms until the stiffness had gone from his muscles. He wasn’t the same Hankyung as before. He was tougher. Wherever he was, they hadn’t simply left him to sleep quietly here – they’d done something to him, and he was going to find out what that something was.

He stood against one of the four walls of his cell, eyes trained on the door as he listened for anything moving outside. There was a barely visible sliver of white light spilling in from under the door, he noticed. There was electricity here, then. He heard a phone ringing somewhere, keys rattling on a keyboard and the quick murmur of brief conversation. This place was populated with something much worse than zombies - humans. Zombies were easier to avoid.

He walked over to the door with slow, silent steps and pressed his ear to the metal. He smelt antiseptic. A hospital? A facility of some sort. There were no sounds from outside his door, and he tried the handle. Locked. He pulled the handle toward him, pressed his knee to the bottom of the door and threw his body weight against it, shoulder first. The door swung open and he managed to catch it before it slammed against the outer wall. He peeked his head out into the hallway that lay beyond. Bright white light flooded in, but his eyes barely squinted. There was an office at one end of the hallway, white blinds half-drawn displaying the layout of a desk and computer. Empty. He walked toward it, but stopped.

He heard footsteps, shoes with metal heels clicking against linoleum in a fast off-beat rhythm. He flattened himself against the nearest wall and waited. The footsteps drew nearer and a man emerged from around the corner clad in a white lab coat over a drab two-piece grey cotton suit. He wore a surgical mask and glasses and his eyes were downcast at the pile of papers he held out in his hands. He didn’t notice Hankyung until it was too late; a jab to his pressure point, a hand over his mouth and the doctor was limp in Hankyung’s arms. He slung the man over his shoulder and carried him back into his cell before stripping him of his clothes and binding him with the ropes that he had once been restrained in himself. He stepped out of the cell clad in the doctors generic clothing, pulled one of the mask loops over his ear and closed the door firmly behind him. That certainly made things easier, he thought.

He made for the office once again.

He came to a crossroads of hallways, the number 5 painted on one wall in large, bold grey font. Floor 5. How many floors were there in this building, then? He looked around for any signs and saw a list of floors and departments. Floor one: deliveries, reception, cafeteria, toilets. Floor two: dormitories. Floor three: security, surgery, animal testing. Floor four: surgery, lower class subject holdings. floor five: offices, research, successful subject holdings. floor six: surgery, research, subject training rooms, high caution subject holdings.

He seemed to be just where he needed to be. Offices. He’d find documents here, surely. He turned around and entered the open, empty office behind him. He closed the door, shut the blinds, and barricaded himself in with a desk. This was what he needed, yes. Filing cabinets, rows and rows of them stretching far back into the room. He walked through them, reading the labels quickly. They referred to this floor as subject holdings, so he must be a subject – as they seemed to be holding him here. So he searched for the word ‘subject’, hoping to narrow down his search. It helped little. There were more folders labelled ‘subject’ than not. He searched each and every one with dogged determination. He came across names he remembered from college, lecturers and students and cleaning staff until he realised the cabinets were ordered by the floors the subjects were on and the districts they were found in. He found his own file easy enough. A picture of him was paper-clipped to the front of a manila folder, he was pale and unconscious with wires jammed into his head and neck, tubes coming out of his nose and mouth. It was discomforting, to say the least.

His suspicions were affirmed, though. They’d definitely been experimenting on him. The more of his file he read, the more he discovered. They were creating the perfect human, immune to the disease carried by the undead. Strong and fast and clever. That’s what they were aiming for. Immunity was impossible, though. They’d found no way to make a cure, an anti-virus. You get bitten, you die. But they got clever, tricky. They made their own undead, fed their flesh to the healthy. Blood transfusions and diets of raw human meat.

They made monsters.

Hankyung was a success, though. They’d trained him to fight in a semi-conscious state, he read. They pumped him full of drugs so he was never fully awake, so he was docile and compliant. They made him fight the other subjects; sometimes they even put him in a room with a few undead and let him do his worst. Amongst the numerous, countless failures… Hankyung was the perfect specimen. They’d given him blood transfusions, too. Subject B. Who was subject B? Hankyung was Subject 00. What did these numbers and letters even mean… if they even meant anything at all. Either way, the blood had made him stronger, faster. He was a weapon now; he just didn’t know whether he was in the right hands.

It seemed to Hankyung, from the amount of files and folders and test cases, that they’d been taking every survivor they could find. They’d scoured Seoul for every remaining human and brought them here to be injected and dissected and improved - or destroyed. He put his file back, closed the drawer. He walked over to one of the computers by the door he’d barricaded and he turned it on. There was no password, and his hands flew into their computer files. He needed more information – what was happening outside? Was it even worth trying to escape if Heechul and everyone else were already dead?

SM Corporation. An organisation created by the government to find a cure for the plague sweeping across the country, the world. This wasn’t the only facility, but it was the biggest. Some of the others had already been destroyed. He checked the date – 13th March. A month since the helicopters had arrived. They’d dropped bombs on the surrounding towns and cities, resulting in nothing more than a few scorched undead and a whole lot more radioactive ones. China was silent, but rumours of life had been surfacing every now and then. Britain, America, Canada, Japan, India – gone. Where they’d gone, nobody knew - underground, undersea, maybe even into space. There was nothing of anything on the satellites, just the undead shuffling and stumbling endlessly on through the empty, abandoned ash-filled streets. Somehow South Korea had survived. Barely, but definitely. He looked through the files and folders saved into the computer but found no reports or test cases of the subjects. So, turning the computer off, he returned to the filing cabinets.

Hankyung hadn’t seen many rooms like his own while on this floor, so he skipped straight to the sixth floor files. Heechul didn’t seem the docile type, so he doubted he’d have been a successful experiment if he’d ended up in this place at all. And right he was. They were in the last drawer, right at the back of the sixth floor filing cabinet. He didn’t see Youngwoon or Jungsu at all. Two manila folders and one red. He didn’t touch the red one. There was a sense of foreboding when he reached for it, and he decided to leave it alone. Sungmin. Subject A. A failure, kept only for his blood compatibility with Subject Z. Heechul was subject B. Hankyung’s source of blood nutrition, and also Subject Z’s. The file told of Subject Z’s preference for Sungmin’s blood, though. Heechul’s blood was becoming insufficient, and if the situation did not improve within three months of the initial report, Heechul would be scrapped.

Hankyung wasn’t going to let that happen.

It dawned on him then that someone would be checking in on him soon, and that they’d quickly realise the naked man lying on the floor wasn’t who it should be. He put the files back and made to close the drawer, but something drew him to reach for the red folder once again, and this time he pulled it out. And he found Kyuhyun.

Unlike him and Heechul and Sungmin, and every other subject he’d flicked through, Kyuhyun wasn’t unconscious in his picture. No. He was screaming, mouth wide enough to split with red, blood-stained teeth and pale blue lips. His eyes were empty and blank and his skin and hair was caked in dry blood. He was dead, Hankyung remembered. The dart to his neck had made him fall, but he’d twisted in his descent to catch a blurry snippet of the scene unfolding behind him. Kyuhyun’s teeth in Sungmin’s neck and Sungmin’s eyes filled with fear. Of course his blood would be matched with Sungmin’s. Just like his was with Heechul’s.

Kyuhyun was their monster, blood-thirsty and uncontrollable. They’d made him in reverse to Hankyung – a zombie trained to be human, where Hankyung was a human trained to think like a zombie. But zombies don’t think. That’s one thing the scientists had forgotten and a good few had died because of their mistakes. Kyuhyun was holed up on the sixth floor away from the staff and subjects. Why they hadn’t disposed of him already, Hankyung couldn’t figure out. The files report was sparse and brief.

He froze at the sound of a man coughing nearby, footsteps approaching. He put the file back with haste, closing the cabinet quietly and removing his barricade. He hid at the back of the room where it was darker, crouching silently behind the cabinets and watching, waiting. A man entered casually, not noticing the subtle differences Hankyung had made to the office. He opened a drawer, took some papers and left. Hankyung exhaled and made his escape.

He stood at the juncture of a staircase between floor five and six. He should leave – he needed to leave… but he needed to look, just to see if Heechul was really here. He wouldn’t do anything. He’d wait, wait until the deadline. Then he’d come back and save them, he swore it to himself then and there. He took the stairs to the sixth floor.

The door was coned off but he stepped over without a care, pushing the heavy metal open with little effort. This floor was definitely different, yes. No windows, just hallways and doors. No phones ringing, no doctors, no nurses. There was just silence and beeping. He walked through the maze of corridors and hallways, looking at every labelled door.

Subject 08, Subject 10, Subject 19… but no Subject B. But then he came upon a different door. A long list of names ran along the side of the door. Subject A, B, C, D, E… Heechul was in here, as was Sungmin. There was a security room beside the door but he daren’t go inside. Instead he pressed his hand against the plastic of the door and promised to come back. And then he left. Nobody questioned him, nobody even noticed him leave. He opened the glass doors out onto the real world; felt the wind whistle past and ruffle his shoulder-length hair this way and that. He couldn’t taste smoke on the air as he had before, back on that roof. It smelt like nothing he’d ever known, pure and fresh. As he looked about he found it almost surreal. Like a dream. There were shops – shops! Food markets and chemists, tailors and mechanics. The road was clear and cars and vans were parked harmlessly along the kerb. How can these people feel so safe? But as he turned the corner he understood immediately.

Soldiers stood patrolling a line of tanks and jeeps, a road block just beyond where they stood and parked as they protected the small community that lived here, letting no one in and no one out. Nobody but Hankyung, because Hankyung was clever and fast. He’d perfected the art of being invisible his whole life, and now he could finally put it into play. The area was clear for miles around but the destruction was evident. This was the world he’d left behind, minus the zombies. Scorched buildings and broken windows. He found a van and parked it in a parking lot, and he built his life with every resource he could get his hands on, all within a mile of two of the biggest threats to his being he could imagine. The undead and the living.

One night, heavy gunfire roused him from his dreams of home cooked egg fried rice and a mother’s smile. He kicked off the moth-eaten blankets tangled around his legs and clambered over wires and cables to his computer, turning on the screens that watched the world outside. It was still dark, it was barely dawn, but he could faintly see the grey-blue light at the entrance of the parking lot, make out the shapes of broken legs shambling along out on the road. He waited for them to pass before getting into the driver’s seat and rolling the van slowly, cautiously out onto the road. They were gone, he thought, until he edged around a corner, his foot hitting the brakes in panic. He reversed, parked, watched.

The blockades were overturned, the military retreating with their guns flashing as the undead gained and fell and gained some more. They ran inside the building, but Hankyung didn’t see them come back out. The undead stood outside the glass doors, pounding, moaning, pushing, and finally the glass shattered and they were inside. He watched and waited for any sign of movement, then, but nothing happened for hours. It was silent, eerily silent, until doctors and nurses spilled forth from the front of the building. Vans and lorries roared around to the entrance, headlights flashing, and the staff started dragging the corpses from the road, tossing them into the back of the vehicles. More emerged from the building carrying laden body bags, their white lab coats stained with blood. The bodies they dragged out seemed endless but within a few hours they were done, and they drove away. They didn’t return.

‘And that was three days ago.’

Heechul was staring at him blankly, and Hankyung wondered whether he’d been listening at all. Sungmin was quite the opposite. He looked close to tears, his hand pressed to his neck, rubbing a wound long healed.

‘Well, shit.’ Heechul said, and they all nodded in agreement.

Shit.


	3. Chapter 3

March, 2018

Four days had passed since they’d met Hyukjae and Donghae on the road, and Jungsu had expected the going to be much tougher. They’d spent a whole day passing through a mountain, another clearing the highway enough for them to get the van through. The rest was effortless. There seemed to be very few cars lying around where there should have been much, much more. There should have been fires burning and undead roaming but only smoke and corpses were to be found. Youngwoon’s arm was healing well, but the cuts on his feet were infected. He had to walk on a pair of crutches Donghae had made out of sticks and twigs, but Jungsu made him rest most of the time, anyway. They’d drive all day and make camp at night. At first they were wary and cautious, but they’d grown more comfortable in their environment. Only a few zombies had troubled them on their way and they were easily dealt with, so nobody was feeling especially endangered on the open highway.

Hyukjae had woken them at dawn. They slept in shifts, two people to a watch every four hours. Donghae was asleep, though, and they ate breakfast leisurely as they waited for him to wake up. They drank soda and ate candy, energy bars, and dry cereal - anything they could grab along the way, anything that could boost their energy. Jungsu was tiring of the sweets already, but Hyukjae insisted they would arrive at their destination in a few days. The thought only made his stomach turn even more.

When Donghae woke up, they set off immediately. They had no shortage of petrol; Donghae’s car boot was filled with treasures. Snacks, water, gas, blankets and much more. Jungsu knew they were lucky; they barely needed to scavenge in the shops they passed by, but they did it anyway. Youngwoon’s feet were in bad shape, so he and Hyukjae stayed behind while Jungsu and Donghae went to hunt. He was glad they’d found them, truthfully. Sometimes he didn’t know what to say to fill the silence that always seemed to hang between him and Youngwoon, and the two new additions always had something to talk about.

Donghae and Hyukjae were close, Jungsu saw. Always laughing together or sitting close, whispering. It made him almost jealous. No, not almost, he was very jealous. Though Youngwoon had reached out to him, he was still awkward with him, and Jungsu had never been very self-confident himself. Whenever he thought Youngwoon was going to hug him, he’d stop short and do something else. Sometimes he even avoided Jungsu’s gaze. For some reason, it hurt. It wasn’t as if Youngwoon had admitted to liking him, so why should he feel so rejected? He’d only hugged him, that one time. He hadn’t done it again. They slept with their backs to each other, miles of space between their bodies - or at least that’s what it felt like to Jungsu. While Jungsu enjoyed the company of the younger men, Youngwoon seemed to hate it. Though he was friendly with them and joked around with them, Jungsu could tell he was irritated by their presence. He couldn’t figure out why, though.

He didn’t share his thoughts with Donghae. The teen spoke enough for two and the store was empty. When they returned to where the vehicles were parked, Youngwoon and Hyukjae were sat on the concrete, deep in conversation. He thought he’d heard Youngwoon say his name a few times as they approached, but the two grew silent when they noticed their presence.

‘Nothing again?’ Hyukjae asked miserably, noticing their empty hands.

‘Nothing.’ Jungsu replied. He leant against Donghae’s car. ‘What were you two talking about?’

‘Nothing.’ Youngwoon answered quickly. His tone was hard. He looked up, directing the conversation elsewhere. ‘It’s cloudy. I think it’s going to snow.’

‘Probably…’ Jungsu agreed. He could see a smile spread over Donghae’s face in the corner of his eye, Hyukjae matching the expression, and he sighed. ‘If it snows it’ll take us twice as long to get to this place, stop looking so happy.’ But they carried on smiling nonetheless.

Hyukjae and Donghae were lost in a bubbly conversation about the predicted snow within seconds, and Jungsu smiled absent-mindedly at how they could still be so cheerful in such a horrible situation. Youngwoon was smiling too, he saw, but not at the same thing Jungsu was. The moment their eyes met his smile faltered and he looked away, getting painfully to his feet and hobbling away.

‘We should leave.’ He yelled over his shoulder, climbing into the passenger seat of the lorry and slamming the door. Hyukjae and Donghae heaved a sigh in unison before following Youngwoon’s example and leaving Jungsu alone, still leaning against the car. Youngwoon was smiling at him before he’d stormed off so why was he being so grumpy?  
Was he shy?

He smiled at the thought, and he only grinned wider when Youngwoon started to thump on the wind-shield. He smiled so wide his dimples made an appearance. He didn’t look at Youngwoon when he got into the lorry, just buckled his seatbelt, twisted the keys and made the lorry rumble to life.

‘What are you smiling at?’ Youngwoon grumbled. Jungsu didn’t say a word.

\---

They drove until it was dark and their hunger had worn them down. They’d left the highway, taking a narrow road with thick woods either side, branches arching overhead and shielding them from the light dusting of snow that had started to fall. Jungsu had dragged one of the mattresses out from the lorry, laying it in-between the cars. The road was too damp to sit on, and the mattress was still in its plastic wrapping. Hyukjae and Donghae were out gathering whatever dry wood they could find, leaving him and Youngwoon alone.

It was deathly silent without the younger men, only the whistling of wind and the soft, wet pitter-patter of snow on the bare branches above. Though the clouds raised the temperature, it was still frightfully cold and Jungsu felt it. He wore two pairs of socks, jeans, two sweaters and a thick coat but underneath it all he sat shivering. Some snow floated down through the branches, melting in his auburn hair almost instantly, and he let out a sigh into the silence. Youngwoon had fallen asleep during the drive, and it seemed he still hadn’t woken up. If he was asleep at all, that is. Jungsu suspected he was just faking it to avoid conversation. It gave him some time alone, though. Time to think. He was always thinking, it seemed, but that was what he was good at, wasn’t it? Jungsu thought about things, Youngwoon and Heechul acted without bothering to think.

Just thinking of Heechul made a lump rise in his throat. He swallowed it down and sighed deeply. A flake of snow landed on his nose and he wiped it off, pulling up the hood on his coat. He still felt guilty about Heechul, though he knew there was nothing he could’ve done. He wondered if he was alive somewhere out there, if he was cold and alone. Or maybe he was with Hankyung. He hoped so, they obviously liked each other. Jungsu couldn’t remember Heechul ever being interested in anyone before, and it was a shame, because there were plenty of people interested in him. At least if he was with Hankyung, even if he was cold and scared, he wouldn’t die alone. That was as much as Jungsu could ask for.

He missed Heechul’s presence sorely. When he thought about it, it felt like a hole had been carved into his heart. But he guessed he was lucky to have been with him that long in the first place. When Heechul ran off the first time that should have been the last time he ever saw him. Heechul had always been full of surprises.

But for all of Heechul’s surprises, Youngwoon surprised him more. To end up with the younger man, out of everyone else he could’ve been stuck with, he didn’t know whether it was luck or a cruel joke. Youngwoon had been homophobic for as long as he’d known him. How could Jungsu have thought he’d reciprocate his feelings? That hug was just a spur of the moment thing, he'd just read too much into it. He had a habit of overthinking things. Youngwoon didn’t love him; he couldn’t even look him in the eye any more. How could someone so clever be so stupid at the same time? He felt like hitting himself.

His toes were getting cold, and he wiggled them around in his shoes, curling them up as if it would make them warmer. He hoped Hyukjae and Donghae came back before Youngwoon woke up. He’d rather be avoided than have to sit here in awkward silence, especially when all he wanted was to throw his arms around the bigger man, breathe in his scent. He wondered if Youngwoon was warm.

A thin layer of snow coated the ground, now, and Youngwoon’s footsteps crunched loudly in the quiet, so Jungsu knew he was coming even before the lorry door slammed shut. When he looked up, Youngwoon was waddling over with a frown, a blanket in his hands. He practically threw himself down on the mattress, looking stubbornly down at his feet. His eyes didn’t pass over Jungsu even once. Youngwoon clutched the blanket in his hands stiffly, wordlessly, and Jungsu wondered why he even bothered to bring it if he wasn’t going to use it. His face was stoic, tensed and Jungsu suddenly felt guilty. He was in pain. He’d forgotten about Youngwoon’s feet; how he’d cut them to ribbons trying to save Jungsu back at college (even though it was Jungsu who saved him in the end), and though Hankyung had bandaged them up they’d festered all the same. It must’ve been agony to walk on, and he felt absurdly proud of Youngwoon for putting on a brave face and keeping his complaints to himself, but more than that, he was angry that he didn’t tell him he was in pain.

‘Do your feet hurt?’ he asked softly, and Youngwoon gave a slight nod. It must’ve hurt his pride to be doted on by someone as despicable as Jungsu, but Youngwoon had too much pride anyway. ‘I’ll change your bandage.’ He said before getting to his feet and heading back to the van. His own feet were numb, but he cared little. He grabbed a first aid kit, along with some painkillers stashed away in the dashboard, and returned to Youngwoon’s side.

‘Give me your foot.’ He said, and when Youngwoon swung his left foot toward him he rested it on his knee, slipped his shoe and sock off and began to clean the gruesome cuts. Youngwoon stayed silent, though his face showed how he really felt. He dabbed at his foot with antiseptic, cleaned the pus and dried blood from between his toes. ‘What were you and Hyukjae talking about before?’ He asked to distract him from the pain.

‘Nothing important.’ Youngwoon replied gruffly.

‘You said my name.’ Jungsu persisted.

‘I said nothing important.’ Jungsu looked up briefly at the coldness in his voice and faced an expression hard as stone. He tended to Youngwoon’s feet in silence after that, and when the boys came back with wood for the fire he was more than glad of the new company.

The wood was damp but it caught fire soon enough, and Jungsu slipped off his shoes and socks to warm his feet faster. Hyukjae sat on the mattress beside Jungsu while Donghae sat close to the fire, poking it enthusiastically with a branch. They ate lukewarm beans from the tin and Jungsu told the tale of their escape from start to finish; he missed out nothing, and Youngwoon seemed peeved that he included his failure of a rescue in the story. Hyukjae and Donghae listened attentively, but when Jungsu asked how their tale had unfolded, what had happened to Kibum, they were reluctant to answer. In the end it was Donghae who answered his question.

‘Everybody was trying to get away from college at the same time. Hyuk had found us, and we’d got into his car and everything, but there were so many people trying to escape. The traffic was bumper to bumper and at first it was okay, those army guys weren’t following us, or, well, we thought they weren't. But then there were gunshots. Everybody was screaming and I even saw someone’s car explode a few cars in front of us. It was so noisy and we couldn’t move. The gunshots were getting closer and Hyuk was screaming-‘

‘I wasn’t screaming-‘

‘And Kibum was trying to work out what to do but Hyuk just wouldn’t shut up so I had to cover his mouth and everything. People were running past our car and I could see the guns flashing a few cars back. Kibum said we had to leave the car and run but Hyuk didn’t want to leave it behind so we had to pull him out and drag him into the woods…’

\----------

‘My dad bought me that car!’ Hyukjae yelled as he ran, but his complaints were ignored. The woods were pitch black, but when he turned to look, Donghae could see the light from the road they’d left behind. He saw the flashing of guns and the sound of screaming. He ran faster. Where was Kibum? He looked left and right wildly but it was too dark. He could hear Hyukjae running breathless just behind him, but not Kibum.

‘Kibum!’ he shouted, but the only response he could hear was the crunching of his feet as they pounded at the leaf-covered ground, the rattling of guns and Hyukjae’s heavy breathing. But then he heard a yell, and he stopped in his tracks immediately. Hyukjae’s reflexes weren’t as sharp and he bumped into Donghae’s frozen form, knocking them both to the floor.

‘Why did you stop so suddenly?’ Hyukjae rolled off Donghae, got to his feet.

‘Kibum… I heard him screaming. Didn’t you hear it?’

‘No-‘ but there it was again, a shout full of agony, and Donghae sped off in the direction of his voice, calling his name all the way. When he found him, he nearly vomited on the spot.

He’d tripped over a tree root. The bone in his ankle jutted out grotesquely and he was groaning from the pain, but Donghae forced him to his feet.

‘It hurts.’ Kibum said weakly, his face twisted in pain, but Donghae was adamant.

‘We have to run, they’ll be coming.’ And he was right, they barely took five steps before he could hear them coming. They couldn’t outrun them. Hyukjae was on the other side of Kibum, and they shared a look. What could they do? Stand there and die?

Or leave Kibum behind.

They were getting closer, he could hear the leaves crunching under their feet, but he was frozen to the spot. How could he leave Kibum? But he could barely walk, and Hyukjae was staring at him with urgency. Before he could blink, though, they were in the clearing. They weren’t from the army, though. Hyukjae heaved a sigh of relief.

‘They’re just students.’ He said, and he even risked a smile, but it left his face as soon as it appeared. He saw them properly, then, as they drew nearer. Bloody and bruised and torn to pieces they reached their arms out weakly, grasping for them, their jaws grinding away. What was this? What was going on? Kibum groaned weakly, and he realised he was crying. ‘I’m sorry Kibum.’ He heard Hyukjae whisper, and in the next moment he was being pulled away, he was running. And when he looked back, he couldn’t see Kibum anymore. All he saw were the backs of those students, all scrabbling on the ground.

Kibum was screaming, but Hyukjae wouldn’t stop running, running and running. They ran for miles. And when they were finally safe, when they finally took a break, Donghae cried. Long and hard he sobbed because in his mind he’d just killed his best friend. Hyukjae wrapped an arm around him. He said it wasn’t his fault, that he should be glad that it was Kibum instead of him.

And after that, they never spoke of Kibum again. They just survived.

\----------

Donghae couldn’t finish the story for the tears that spilled down his face, so Hyukjae had ended it for him. Jungsu had been apologetic, Youngwoon silent, and they dampened the fire soon after, bedding down for the night. They’d found their car at the start; a full tank of petrol and the keys hanging in the ignition, they were luckier than they knew. Now it stank of sweat and Donghae’s scent. When they slept, they’d curl up together on the back seat, blankets piled high over their bodies to keep the heat in, and tonight Hyukjae lay awake, listening to Donghae sleep. He was tired from all the crying. They hadn’t spoken of Kibum since that night, and seeing Donghae cry had made him feel a sharp stab of guilt. Because in the end, it was his fault Kibum died. Donghae didn’t know that. And it would stay that way.

When they’d entered the woods beside the road, it had been Hyukjae who’d knocked Kibum over. Donghae didn’t notice. They ran, Kibum lagged behind, and Hyukjae had hoped the darkness would swallow him up. He’d hoped that they’d be well away by the time Donghae realised he was gone, but to his dismay his friend was more perceptive than he’d thought. When they’d found Kibum with his ankle all twisted and mangled he’d felt a sickening feeling of joy. This way he couldn’t even run after them.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t like Kibum. They were good friends. But Donghae liked him too much. Hyukjae was jealous, he could admit it. Donghae was his, and this was his chance to monopolize him, even if it was cruel.

And it had worked out perfectly.

Until Jungsu and Youngwoon had caught them, of course. But they were only a minor bother. He liked Jungsu well enough, and he’d had drinks with Youngwoon a few times in the past.

He glanced at Donghae’s sleeping face beside him, and smiled, closed his eyes. He’d sleep well tonight.

 

\----

Youngwoon reached out across the mattress and tentatively tucked a strand of auburn hair behind Jungsu’s ear; let his hand linger on his skin before he pulled away, tucking his hand between his chest and the mattress and sighing into his pillow. When Jungsu slept he almost made Youngwoon jealous. How anybody could look so peaceful, so content, was beyond him. Jungsu barely made a sound as he slept, breathing softly; his eyes rolling around beneath the skin of his eyelids. Youngwoon knew he wasn’t anywhere near as pleasant to sleep beside. He snored terribly, and he had no doubt Jungsu had suffered through it already. He never said anything about it, though. He was probably too scared of him to complain or wake him up.

He rolled onto his back, looked sullenly at the roof of the van. He brought his hands to his face in frustration. He was such a bastard. He wanted Jungsu more than words could describe, but he couldn’t show it. He’d shout and run away when what he really wanted to do was smile, pull Jungsu close and kiss him senseless. The thought made him feel uncomfortable, though, and it irritated him that he still couldn’t accept the feelings he harboured. He had feelings for Jungsu, he knew it; he could feel it in his heart, and his stomach would flip sickeningly at the sight of the smaller man. Lately his body had been responding in a way he hadn’t anticipated and he’d had to perform miracles just to hide it from Jungsu; sleeping so close to the other man was torture. He was a man; it was natural that he’d have certain… dreams. It was just hard to deal with when those dreams involved the very man he was lying next to. There was no privacy anymore. If Jungsu wasn’t around, Donghae and Hyukjae were. Sometimes he’d lie, saying he needed to take a leak just to get away from the group for some ‘alone time’, but even then one of them would tell him to wait up so they could join him. Jungsu had said it wasn’t safe to take toilet breaks alone because anything could be in the woods. It was best to have someone looking out for you, he’d said.

So Youngwoon was frustrated, to say the least.

How easy it would be to simply reach out and touch him, do the things he’d been fantasising about, but his mind said no. His heart wanted Jungsu, and most of his mind did too, but there was always a voice, loud and nagging, throbbing in his head as it shouted at him. ‘No,’ it would say. ‘Jungsu is a man. He’s the same as Heechul. How could you become like them, so disgusting and wrong?’

Only a few days ago he would’ve agreed with that voice. He would’ve drunk himself into a stupor to forget the shame of even considering intimacy with another man. But now it just made him angry. He wanted to touch Jungsu – he WANTED it. How could he care about petty things when the world had already fallen to pieces, when he could die at any minute sprawled on the concrete with his guts being torn out by the undead? Being with Jungsu seemed like paradise in comparison.

They’d been on the road for nearly a fortnight and Youngwoon had been treating Jungsu like shit, yet the smaller man still had a smile for him, still tried to please him, treated his wounds and made sure he ate. He rolled onto his side, looking at Jungsu’s sleeping face again. The sun was coming up, spilling in through the windshield and lighting the back of the van ever so slightly. Jungsu wasn’t womanly, so to speak. He was gentle and skinny and feminine but never… girly. But with the light falling on his face just-so, Youngwoon thought he looked almost like an angel.

He wondered if Jungsu had ever been with anybody. While Jungsu was friendly and popular, like an older brother to most of his college friends, he’d always been alone; Youngwoon only ever recalled seeing him with Heechul. That relationship was impossible, surely. The thought made doubt fill his mind, though. They were pretty close, and he had no doubt about Heechul’s sexuality. Just thinking about it made him uncomfortable, irritated. Why, though? How could he expect Jungsu to be a saint when Youngwoon was dripping with sins? There was a sick pleasure in the thought of Jungsu being a virgin, though. Youngwoon wanted to be the best he ever had, to have Jungsu completely to himself. He wanted to be the only one to see Jungsu in ecstasy, to hear him moan.

His hand crept over hesitantly until he was cupping his chin, the roughness of stubble seeming out of place on Jungsu’s skin. He stroked his cheek, traced his lips with a thumb, and Jungsu’s eyelashes twitched, his eyes opening sleepily to see Youngwoon closing the distance. He saw panic in Jungsu’s eyes before they snapped shut, and when his lips touched the smaller mans he wondered why he’d waited so long. He’d kissed girls, even if he’d been drunk most of the time, and they couldn’t even compare to Jungsu. Because Jungsu wasn’t as fragile as he looked, and Youngwoon hadn’t expected him to kiss back so desperately. Jungsu seemed to wake up in a heartbeat, and Youngwoon realised just how long he must’ve been waiting for him to make a move. Jungsu’s fingers dug into Youngwoon’s broad shoulders and in seconds the bigger man was on his back, Jungsu gasping for air against his lips between hungry, wanton kisses.

The sheets tangled around their legs and soft moans filled the small space, though the two had thoughts only for eachother. Hands roamed and teeth clashed and Youngwoon could feel the pressure building between his legs, and Jungsu’s, too. They broke apart, Jungsu straddling Youngwoon’s hips, and the smaller man straightened, slipped his shirt off deftly and looked down at Youngwoon like a man possessed. His lips were bruised and red and his cheeks tinted pink, his auburn hair catching the light, all mussed and dishevelled. But Youngwoon’s eyes drifted downwards at the skin he’d never been lucky enough to see, the milky skin of Jungsu’s chest. He’d always imagined Jungsu to be skinny and unremarkable, but he was wrong. His hipbones were sharp, his waist small enough for Youngwoon to fit his hands around, but he had more muscle to show than Youngwoon, toned and lithe and if Youngwoon wasn’t already hard before, he was then.

He gripped Jungsu’s hips roughly, threw him down onto the mattress and devoured his lips once more, breaking away only to pull his shirt off as well. His body was much less remarkable, stocky and out of shape, but Jungsu didn’t seem to care, pulling him back down the moment the material was off. Hips grinded and legs tangled until they were both completely breathless and impatient. Neither of them had time nor want for words, because words were nothing compared to the feel of their bodies pressed together after tip-toeing around eachother for so long. Youngwoon sucked at the skin of Jungsu’s neck, fingers dancing dangerously above his waistband and the smaller man threw his head back, moaned in frustration.

And Youngwoon delved beneath the material of his boxers, touched him, and gripped him in his rough and calloused hands. He groaned at Jungsu’s enthusiastic response, revelling in the rich notes spilling from Jungsu’s lips as he cried out his name.

So this was what he’d been missing.

Jungsu’s blunt nails drew red lines down Youngwoon’s back as his toes curled and his mouth whispered words he’d have never said in his right mind. Youngwoon had never had someone want him, not like this. It was euphoric. He captured his lips once more; Jungsu’s back arching higher, higher, until they were pressed together, sweaty and panting. Jungsu was close, and even though Youngwoon hadn’t touched himself, he was on the edge too. He felt Jungsu grip his bicep, throw his legs around his hips, and he held him tighter, kissed him deeper.

The sound of banging on the van cut through the atmosphere like a knife, though, and for a moment Youngwoon’s heart seemed to have stopped, until he heard Donghae shout them for breakfast.

Jungsu was too lost in pleasure to notice, but Youngwoon wilted instantly. He watched Jungsu writhe and twist in the sheets as Youngwoon stroked him to climax, watched him cry out in wordless euphoria before falling limp against the mattress.

His hair was a mess and his skin was flushed. He lay there, looking up at Youngwoon with heavy lids and an open mouth looking fucked out and debauched, and as Youngwoon pulled on his shirt, sweaty and frustrated, he thought, not for the first time, that the sooner those two were gone, the better.

-

May, 2018

It was already 8pm but the sun still shined on stubbornly as it was wont to do in early summer. Heechul sat in the swivel chair at the computers, his knees drawn up beneath his chin as he span lazily back and forth. Sungmin and Hankyung still sat on the mattress and both of them were on edge.

‘Why won’t Kyuhyun come out until its dark?’ Heechul asked. He didn’t seem interested at all, just wanting to break the silence. Sungmin fidgeted at the question.

‘They changed his genetics,’ answered Hankyung, ‘they messed him up pretty bad. His eyes are completely ruined, sunlight blinds him. He can only move out in the dark.’ he glanced at Sungmin, ‘He knows we’re here, he can smell Sungmin from a mile off, I’d guess.’

‘Why are we waiting for him, then?’

‘We have to!’ Sungmin straightened, eyebrows furrowed.

‘But why?’ Heechul looked at Sungmin blankly, ‘He’ll kill you.’

‘He won’t.’

‘He’s dead, Sungmin…’

Sungmin stood and clenched his fists, gritting his teeth.

‘Stop winding him up, Heechul.’ Hankyung sighed, ‘He won’t do Sungmin any harm. He’ll take enough blood to keep the both of them alive, I’m sure of it. There’s no way he’d kill Sungmin.’ He glanced at Heechul for a second, licked his lips. Heechul frowned.

‘What do you mean he won’t hurt Sungmin?'

‘He was matched with Sungmin’s blood, he needs it to survive but, well, there’s no guaranteeing he won’t hurt us.’ Hankyung shrugged and Heechul threw his hands in the air dramatically.

‘Why on Earth are we still here, then?’

‘We’ve changed, too, Heechul. If Kyuhyun does anything, I’ll protect you.’ He looked at his feet awkwardly before shifting his gaze to Sungmin. ‘And if you can get Kyuhyun to remember himself, he could become a useful weapon.’

Sungmin scoffed, shook his head in disbelief. He turned and lifted the map, opening the door to the bedroom and slamming it behind him.

They sat there, then. Heechul on the chair and Hankyung on the mattress, looking anywhere but at each other.

‘Talk for fucks sake.’ Heechul said, a smile playing on his lips, and Hankyung smiled back at him shyly. He’d changed, Heechul thought. He was a leader now, more confident than he’d seen him be in those three days he’d known the man. His skin was tanned and his hair uncombed. His face was still bruised from the beating Heechul had given him and Heechul felt a sudden pang of guilt. He stood up and knelt beside Hankyung on the mattress, gingerly touching his split lip. ‘I’m sorry.’ He said quietly. Hankyung laughed softly.

‘It’s okay. I barely felt it, you punch so weakly.’

‘Shut up!’ Heechul gave him a light push, and they laughed together like old friends. The laughter trailed off and they just looked at each other for a moment, eyes wandering and hearts beating before Heechul curled his fingers into Hankyung’s shirt and pulled him close for a deep kiss.

He gasped at the sensation of Hankyung’s tongue running over his lips, pressing inside and exploring the heat of his mouth as it slid against his own. The Chinese man’s hands ran up and down his back before hot fingers danced against bare skin, pulling his shirt off and throwing it to the side before capturing his lips more heatedly than before.

Large hands ran along Heechul’s spine and he tangled his fingers in the man’s messy hair, letting him push him down onto the mattress. Hankyung’s kisses were unskilled and shy but Heechul felt the passion behind each one. How long had Hankyung been waiting to kiss him, yet Heechul didn’t even know he’d existed, not until the world ended. Teeth clashed, nails scratched and tongues tied as they wrestled in the moth-eaten sheets and soon enough Heechul’s clothes were forgotten, and he was already working on doing the same for Hankyung. Heechul felt so skinny and pale beneath the Chinese man, who was all muscle and golden skin, but when soft lips pressed against his lily white thighs his insecurities was pushed aside, replaced by love and lust and pleasure.

Hankyung was attentive, his strong hands finding new erogenous zones to make Heechul purr as if he knew every inch of his body by heart, his skilled fingers drawing choked sounds from Heechul's throat with every twist inside him. Heechul's body was a furnace around his cock, tight and welcoming, and it took every ounce of self restraint not to plunge into him with wanton abandon. As he sank deeper and deeper, he pressed his lips to Heechul's statuesque neck, stretched back as he gasped through the pain and pleasure of being stretched. His kisses moved to Heechul's open, red lips, feeling his hot breath and wet tongue against his own as he bottomed out inside Heechul at last, groaning into the kiss. Heechul was eager, pressing himself against Hankyung with urgency, the heels of his feet digging into Hankyung's buttocks beckoningly. 'Move,' he rasped, 'Fuck me.'

Hankyung short circuited for a moment, his cock jumping at Heechul's debauched state, and he pulled out slowly, watching Heechul's eyes roll back, and slammed back in roughly, revelling in the long, drawn out moan it tore from Heechul's lips. 

Hankyung watched Heechul writhe beneath him, gasping and moaning into the pillow. He almost couldn’t believe what was happening. His orgasm caught him off guard, Heechul's own climax hitting him first, his face twisting in extasy as he clenched around him with every wave of pleasure, dragging Hankyung along soon afterwards. His stomach coiled and tightened and he leaned down to capture Heechul’s lips briefly and tenderly before he fell slack against the slimmer man, breaths quick and hard as he thrust weakly a few more times. He pressed kisses to Heechul’s shoulder, felt his soft skin against his lips and his fingers encircling his neck.

Heechul was pushing him away, and he let him, but when he saw why his heart slowed and his mouth went dry. Pale blue eyes and flushed cheeks drew closer before leaning in, a soft, wet mouth opening at the juncture of Hankyung’s neck and he gasped, bit back a shout. He knew, of course he knew, but the shock was still there. It didn’t hurt; it was like a hickey that went more than skin-deep. He held Heechul’s body closer as his teeth bit deeper, his tongue lashing hotly against his skin. He was aroused again, he realised with horror. He bit back a moan as Heechul let go, his teeth sliding out slowly before he fell back against the mattress, his hair fanning out against the pillow and there were tears on his cheeks, blood on his plump lips.

‘What am I?’ he whispered through a sob, eyes fading back to brown, shiny with tears and pinched with sadness and fear.

‘Heechul.’ said Hankyung, and he kissed him softly. ‘You’re Heechul, and you’re perfect.’

The taste of his own blood seemed sweet on Heechul’s lips.

\---------

Sungmin awoke to the sound of beeping, insistent and irritating and he sat up groggily. When did he fall asleep? The mattress he lay on was flat and hard and his shoulder was stiff. He kicked the thin white sheet he’d used as a blanket off his legs and clambered out of the small single bunk, feeling the rough carpet on his bare feet. He sat for a moment, perched on the edge of the bunk with his head held in his hands. Maybe it had all been a dream, all of it. He laughed to himself, then. No. He wasn’t deluded yet. This was real, and when he left this room he’d find Hankyung and Heechul and when he left this van he’d find hell. And Kyuhyun. He refused to believe they were the same thing.

He stood, pushed open the door and for a moment he wondered why it wouldn’t open properly. He tugged the map up through the crack in the door and slid through, stepping gingerly into the larger room. It was dark, now, only the flashing of the central monitor giving any light at all. There were no words on the screen, just colours. Red to black to red again, on and off and beeping and beeping. He scowled at the screen as if he could stop it with a look but it persisted and he turned his attention elsewhere. The room turned from black to grey and red and he made out the cables and the keyboards and the papers stuck to the walls. Where was Hankyung? Heechul? He heard the shuffling of sheets behind him and he turned to look only to avert his eyes instantly. Wow. He cleared his throat. Twice. The smaller man stirred, groaned, rolled onto his back. He cleared his throat again and Heechul jumped out of his skin, bolting off the mattress and gathering the sheets around his naked body; he looked at him in the dim light with eyes full of shock and terror before he realised it was just Sungmin and he flopped back down onto the mattress again. Hankyung awoke lying calmly and quietly.

Sungmin turned his back on the two, feeling embarrassed for no apparent reason. ‘Why is the screen flashing?’ he asked.

‘It does that when there’s something outside.’ Hankyung spoke softly, almost inaudibly. ‘Probably Kyuhyun.’

There was a fleshy slapping sound and Hankyung hissed in pain. ‘How can you be so calm? Shouldn’t we be scared or something?’ Heechul was pulling on his clothes, stumbling around in the dark as he threw some in Hankyung’s face. Hankyung got dressed slowly and flicked a switch at his computer, flooding the room with green light as the night-vision camera screens lit up and showed the road outside. Two bright green specks glowed out from one of the screens. Eyes.

‘He’s being cautious. We have plenty of time.’

Yes, Sungmin thought. It was just like Kyuhyun to be cautious. So there was still some of him left, right? What a stupid thing to think. His life was in danger and he was staring into the cold, uncaring eyes of the man who aimed to devour him and all he could think of were his fickle emotions. But something was tugging at him, drawing his thoughts to Kyuhyun and only Kyuhyun. He stared longingly at the screen, Kyuhyun’s shadowy green silhouette edging closer. He could hear Heechul and Hankyung speaking, were they talking to him? He couldn’t tell, it was all a blur and he touched the screen gently. When had he walked this close? A hand fell on his shoulder, shaking him gently from his trance.

‘Let’s go.’

\-------------

It was pitch black outside, though the cloudy sky was lined with a soft, dark violet. A spring-time chill still hung in the air but Sungmin barely felt it for the pounding of his heart, the blood rushing through his veins. The three of them stood just outside the van, waiting. Kyuhyun was very cautious, it seemed. They stood there for nearly twenty minutes before they saw him emerge from around the corner, a tall, skinny silhouette in the dark. And Sungmin’s feet moved without thought. Step after step he shortened the distance between him and the shadow, unheeding to Heechul’s distant yelling. Kyuhyun was so close, now, just a few steps. He readied himself to leap, to throw himself into Kyuhyun’s arms, but the shadow moved, and his face was close. Pale and gaunt and blue. So blue, his eyes. So close. His hands were cold as they cupped his jaw, as they tilted his head gently. As were his lips against the warm flesh of his neck, but his mouth was hot and burning, a raging fire coating his blunt teeth as they sunk hard and deep into the soft meat beneath. Someone was shouting, was it him? So much pain, yet he held Kyuhyun close, tight, his hands balling up in the material of his shirt. His eyes were closed, great vibrant sparks playing behind his eyelids, static and light and colour and then Kyuhyun was finished and the colours were gone, replaced only by black and nothing.

Heechul was yelling but Hankyung held him back, leaned close and whispered, ‘Just wait'.’

Sungmin was warm where Kyuhyun was cold and it almost burnt, like frostbite to a flame. He was beautiful, truly. More than his hazy mind could remember, more than he could see in the dim light of the facility. Milky-skinned and dark-eyed, he walked toward him as if he had no fears; threw himself at Kyuhyun’s chest like an old lover. A coiling, tightening sensation tugged at Kyuhyun’s heart, though, at the look in Sungmin’s eyes as he saw him in the light. Horror, fear, the things he never wanted the man in his arms to feel. But he didn’t let go, he didn’t run away. He stared, and he was close, so close Kyuhyun could smell him. The memory of his taste made his mouth water, he licked his lips, leaned close. Sungmin’s breaths were hot, short puffs through plump, parted lips. So close. With skin like marble beneath his teeth he savoured the metallic taste and Sungmin gasped, moaned. He pulled him closer, bit deeper. Sungmin cried out in agony, but Kyuhyun could feel the swelling in his loins as he pressed ever closer, closer, closer. But when he was full, Sungmin fell limp in his arms. Blood wet his lips and guilt was a heavy weight in his gut. He fell to his knees with Sungmin pulled against his chest, his head lolling back, skin pale and bloodless. Had he killed him? No. There was breath in his lungs. He watched in silence the rise and fall of his chest, but his lips were now pale and blue where Kyuhyun’s were cherry red and Heechul was yelling again.

‘Come with us, Kyuhyun.’ He heard Hankyung shout, but he didn’t look up. Heechul fell silent for a moment – but only a moment.

‘Why are you telling him to come with us?’ He asked with incredulity, mouth twisted in disgust. ‘He just killed Sungmin, you idiot!’

‘He didn’t kill him, like you didn’t kill me.’ He smirked, and Heechul flushed red as a tomato, punched Hankyung hard in the arm and directed his gaze away from the arrogant Chinese man.

‘What do we do now, then?’ He grumbled, refusing to meet Hankyung’s eyes. Kyuhyun still knelt on the sidewalk, bent over Sungmin’s unconscious body, his thick mop of curly hair obscuring his face. Hankyung spoke again.

‘He’ll die out here, Kyuhyun. Come inside. He needs sleep and warmth, and we need to talk.’

Heechul made a strange face as the words left Hankyung’s mouth. Why did he always speak so confusingly? What did they need to speak about, anyway? Kyuhyun was a zombie now, why would you need to have a chat with a corpse? Heechul didn’t understand, but as he stood bewildered, Kyuhyun stirred from his depression, glaring at them through his tangled, greasy bangs. He stood, and Heechul tensed, but Hankyung shook his head. The gesture told him there was nothing to be wary of, but Heechul didn’t have as much faith as the Chinese man seemed to. He matched Kyuhyun’s expression, watched him walk with shaky, slow steps towards the van, Sungmin carried in his arms as if he were a mere child. Just thinking that he’d be trapped inside the van with this monster made him want to run, to go it alone, but Hankyung had faith, so he did too.

Hankyung opened the door when Kyuhyun was close, ushered him in; but Kyuhyun stopped before the first step and looked at Heechul. It felt cold, somehow. With just that look Heechul felt frozen to the core, but his own glare was just as icy and Kyuhyun proceeded to mount the steps into the van, reluctant as he was.

‘Remind me why he’s coming with us again.’ He hissed, climbing in afterwards. Hankyung only snickered, answering with mystery as always.

‘You’ll see in the end.’

Heechul nearly turned to throttle him but was cut short by a sound that must’ve stopped his heart for a moment. He looked off into the distance, the thick darkness of the street beyond before meeting Hankyung’s eyes with an expression of terror.

‘They heard you shouting.’ He said. ‘We should go.’

His calmness, which had previously been a comfort, now irked him and he would've addressed it if it wasn't for the pressing danger. Instead he turned, continuing his climb into the van. He jumped into the passenger seat, fastening his seatbelt as Hankyung sat beside him, turning the key in the ignition.

‘Where’s Kyuhyun?’ He asked, and Hankyung pointed a thumb over his shoulder.

‘They’re in the bedroom.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘To kill the people who made us this way, of course. And maybe save Youngwoon and Jungsu on the way.’ He glanced at Heechul, then back at the road. The headlights flickered on and off before flooding the street before them in white light, crooked silhouettes in the distance. He pressed his boot-clad feet to the pedals, hit the gas.

‘If they’re still alive, that is.’

\-------------------------

He lay Sungmin down gently on the bottom bunk and sat down at his pillow. As he reached to move a strand of hair away from his eyes, he found himself hesitating for a moment, but he found the courage, felt the silky strands beneath his marble-like fingers and stroked Sungmin’s thin face as he slept. He didn’t feel tired himself, though. He could barely remember how it felt to sleep.

Though the room was pitch black with no windows to let light in, he could see Sungmin clear as day. The blood was drying on his neck, he saw, and he touched his own copper-stained lips with a pang of guilt and sickness. He’d been different once, he knew. He remembered being bitten, though the wound was long healed. He’d died and risen again as the same terror that had killed him in the first place. Why couldn’t they have just killed him completely, rather than turning him into this? To do something so horrid to Sungmin - not once, but twice - was cruel and painful; not only for Sungmin, but Kyuhyun too. The first time he hadn’t had the mind to stop, but this time he knew what he was doing, and he wanted to. He wanted it more than words could say, to feel Sungmin completely, to taste him. Sungmin had enjoyed it too though, hadn’t he? He remembered how Sungmin had moaned, and it was one of pleasure. Pain, too, but there was pleasure all the same. His body had responded, his arousal evident. Kyuhyun felt the weight on his chest lighten ever so slightly at the thought. He’d been the one to approach Kyuhyun in the first place, right? There was still a spark in Sungmin’s heart, one that Kyuhyun could turn into a blaze.

He lay beside Sungmin, wrapped his arms around him gently and watched him breathe through parted lips. He never realised how cold he was until he felt the smaller man’s warmth, and it scared him. He was truly a monster. Heechul saw it, even if Sungmin didn’t.

And Hankyung sought to use it to his advantage.

He’d never trusted the Chinese man, and his ulterior motives were obvious. Kyuhyun was to be their weapon, though he had no idea what use he would be.

He pressed closer to Sungmin, buried his face in the crook of his neck. He could feel his pulse against his ear, and it soothed him. Kyuhyun had no pulse, he’d checked. He was a dead man walking, living on stolen blood, but he was still clever, cunning. Sungmin had turned him into an idiot before, but now he would truly save him. He’d play nice with Hankyung, submit and obey, but the moment he was unguarded he’d attack. Kyuhyun was no tool.

Heechul was dangerous, watching him with the eyes of a panther - but if Heechul was a panther, Kyuhyun thought himself a Lion, and he meant to tear Heechul’s whiskers out one by one should he pounce.

\---

They didn’t drive far, just enough to put the horde behind them. Hankyung wanted to save gas. Petrol was rare, the gas stations completely dry. He’d saved a few jugs while he was waiting for Heechul and Sungmin, but they wouldn’t last long. He parked them in a high-rise parking lot, fifth floor with a good view of the streets below. The street lamps didn’t work anymore, not for months. The national grid had cut out, and now Seoul was wrapped in darkness, only the stars and the moon to see by.

The engine rumbled to a halt, Hankyung twisting the keys and leaning back in his seat. Heechul leant forward. ‘How do you know where they are? Why would Jungsu be there?’  
‘There was more than one facility, I said that.’ A sort-of smile touched his lips, almost apologetic. ‘I didn’t say Jungsu would be there for certain, but where else could he and Youngwoon have gone?’ He saw Heechul’s expression turn glum, shrugged his shoulders. ‘You shouldn’t get your hopes up.’

Heechul’s expression turned sour at his words. ‘That’s easy for you to say,’ He retorted. ‘You’ve never had friends.’ He left his seat, storming through the kitchen and pushing aside the curtain, disappearing from view. Hankyung didn’t say a word.

What could he say? Heechul was right. He’d never had friends, so he had no idea what Heechul was going through. Hankyung couldn’t offer comfort; he could only do his best to fix what Heechul had become, and what he would become if he didn’t find these people soon. If they found Jungsu and Youngwoon on the way, that was great.

But fixing Heechul came first.


	4. Chapter 4

_May, 2018_

Heechul glanced toward the sudden flood of lamplight spilling in through the uplifted kitchen curtain, his eyes taking in Hankyung’s tall form, and he looked away. The room darkened as the Chinese man dropped the curtain, sitting down on the mattress beside Heechul. He looked at his hands, at Heechul, and back at his hands.

‘Are you mad at me?’

‘Of course I’m mad at you, you bastard.’ Heechul grumbled. Hankyung smiled slightly and let out a sigh, falling back on the mattress.

‘I should’ve picked my words better-‘

‘Yes.’

‘-but my point still stands. I have no idea whether Jungsu and Youngwoon are still alive.’ Heechul turned his head slightly then, his shoulder-length hair falling in front of his dark eyes. Hankyung continued, speaking softly. ‘The most important thing right now is finding the facility – finding answers. If I get answers then I can keep you safe. I can keep you by my side.’

Heechul smiled, laughed softly. ‘You say the cheesiest things.’ He lay beside Hankyung on the mattress, cupped his chin, and kissed him. ‘What answers could keep me safe? I’m safe already, and I’m by your side right now. Isn’t that enough?’

Hankyung didn’t reply, though. He held Heechul close, savoured the moment, because it wasn’t enough. Heechul wouldn’t stay by his side without the answers. Not for long, anyway.

\----

 

Sungmin woke up feeling weak and heavy, and when he opened his eyes he saw Kyuhyun’s staring right back, pale and unblinking. His first instinct was to check his neck, to see if it had really happened, because he should’ve been dead, right? But there was nothing, just dry blood clinging to his skin. Had he healed from that? How long had he been asleep?

‘What happened?’ He asked Kyuhyun, who seemed startled by his sudden speech. Kyuhyun’s voice was raw and gravelly, hard to understand. ‘Bit you,’ and ‘passed out’ were the only words that Sungmin could discern, and he sat up dizzily.

‘Why am I alive?’ he breathed, but Kyuhyun only looked at him blankly. ‘Where are we?’ He looked around himself, took in the heaps of clothes on the floor and the crisp bed sheets tangled around his legs and shook his head. He was in the van. ‘Never mind.’ He swallowed, lay back down. ‘I’m thirsty; could you get me a drink?’

Kyuhyun seemed hesitant to obey, but nodded his head anyway, slowly leaving the room. Why was Kyuhyun in the van? Had he done something to Heechul and Hankyung? His mind tracked back to his last memories, Kyuhyun’s teeth in his neck, and he felt the heat rise in his cheeks. He’d been aroused, hadn’t he? Just thinking about it made him embarrassed, disgusted. How could he have enjoyed having his flesh chewed off? What was wrong with him? The worst part was how much he wanted more.

Hankyung had said Kyuhyun was a zombie now, so how could he speak? He’d definitely answered Sungmin’s question, even if it was practically unintelligible. He’d bitten Sungmin so hard, tore the very flesh from his neck, yet here he was – alive. Did he still have feelings, then – or at least enough of his previous self to keep Sungmin alive? The door opened, interrupting his thoughts. Kyuhyun entered the room, handed him a glass of water before sitting beside him, and to Sungmin’s surprise, Hankyung followed behind. The Chinese man smiled at him, though Sungmin felt it didn’t reach his eyes, and stood beside the door. He looked at him for a moment before speaking.

‘You seem to be okay.’ He said, and Sungmin sat up weakly. So Kyuhyun hadn’t killed Hankyung.

‘What happened?’ Sungmin asked. Maybe Hankyung would give him a more understandable answer than Kyuhyun had.

‘Well, Kyuhyun took his fill. You passed out and Heechul made a ruckus, so a few uninvited guests showed up. We had to drive away.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘We’re in Incheon right now, near Dong-gu. The sun’s coming up so we’ll stop somewhere safe, find some supplies. We’ll head for the other facility tomorrow.’

Sungmin nodded, though he wasn’t really sure what Hankyung was talking about. He glanced at Kyuhyun quickly, but found himself double-taking. Why was he staring at him like that?

‘Kyuhyun,’ said Hankyung, diverting Kyuhyun’s attention from Sungmin. ‘I need to talk to you quickly.’

Once again, Kyuhyun left the room with hesitation, a lingering look. Sungmin stood, feeling an ache in his ribs. Kyuhyun must’ve bruised them, holding him too tight. Blood dotted his t-shirt, and he leaned against the door, pressing his ear to it.

Whatever they were talking about, he wanted to hear it.

Kyuhyun followed Hankyung into the next room warily, reluctant to leave Sungmin’s side. Hankyung seated himself in the swivel chair beside the monitors, and he offered a smile. ‘You don’t have to be so hostile; I’m not going to do anything to you. I just need your help.’ He said. He looked at Heechul, hovering like a shadow in the corner of the room. ‘I need to talk to Kyuhyun privately.’

Heechul detached himself from the darkness, the dim light of the monitors casting a green-ish hue on his sour face as he passed Kyuhyun by and joined Sungmin in the bedroom. Kyuhyun gestured toward the door as it closed. ‘What about him?’ he rasped.

‘Heechul won’t do anything, he’s just cautious. You should know why.’ But Kyuhyun didn’t know why, and after a few moments of silence Hankyung filled in the blanks. ‘When Heechul looks at you he can see himself – or to put it simply, what he’ll become.’

Kyuhyun had guessed something along those lines, but he had little interest in Heechul’s problems. ‘Why do you need my help?’

‘Your DNA.’ Hankyung said simply. ‘It could be useful when we reach the facility; I’m just grasping at straws but it’s all I can think of-‘

‘-Heechul’s life is of no interest to me. I’ll cooperate as long as Sungmin is safe, that’s all.’

Hankyung nodded. ‘Yeah… I thought you’d say that.’

\---

Sungmin jumped as the door opened, and Heechul entered, frowned at him. ‘You should be in bed.’ He said dully, and Sungmin huffed.

‘I’m not weak, I’m fine. You should all stop treating me like a child.’ He watched Heechul climb onto the top bunk, sigh. ‘Why are you in here?’

‘Hankyung told me to give him and Kyuhyun some privacy.’

‘Do you always do what Hankyung says?’

His words seemed to hit a nerve, and Heechul glared at him weakly, shrugged his shoulders. But it made Heechul think about just how often he heeded Hankyung’s words. Not only now, but before, too. It just felt natural to do what Hankyung told him to do. Kim Heechul had been tamed. If Youngwoon could see this, he’d laugh until he cried. For some reason the thought of Youngwoon made him feel sad, but he shrugged it off. There was no way he was missing that bastard; he just hoped Jungsu was with him. Sungmin interrupted his thoughts.

‘Don’t you want to hear what they’re saying?’ He asked, creeping towards the door again. Heechul made a face.

‘It’s probably nothing interesting. Kyuhyun’s a corpse; I doubt anything he says will be stimulating.’ Heechul smirked. ‘He’s probably telling him not to eat us.’

Sungmin scoffed, smiled deviously. ‘Why would Hankyung send you away if it was something silly? It’s obviously something he doesn’t want us to hear - something he doesn’t want you to hear.’ But despite his provocations, Heechul still shrugged, lay back on the bed.

‘If it’s something he doesn’t want us to hear, then I don’t want to hear it.’

Sungmin puffed out his cheeks childishly, pressing his ear to the door again anyway. Hankyung’s soft speech was muffled, but Sungmin heard his shocking words clearly.  
‘When Heechul looks at you, he can see himself – or to put it simply, what he’ll become.’

He moved away from the door, then, and looked at Heechul in distress. Now that he thought about it, Heechul seemed paler than he’d been before, thinner. When he’d first met up with Heechul and Hankyung, Heechul was all personality, loud and hard to ignore. But now he was almost quiet, passive. Heechul sat up, frowned at Sungmin’s worried expression. ‘What?’ he asked. Sungmin shook his head, plastering on a smile.

‘Nothing, I’m just feeling a bit dizzy.’

He sat on the bottom bunk, running his fingers through his hair. Had he heard Hankyung wrong? Maybe he’d misinterpreted what he’d said? Either way, whatever he’d heard was something Heechul didn’t need to know about. He’d talk to Hankyung about it later.

A thought lingered in his mind, though, insistent as it repeated and repeated, over and over. If Heechul was growing colder, barely human like Kyuhyun… would Kyuhyun become as human as Heechul?

\-----

Hankyung drove through a small residential area, feeling it was safe enough to make a stop at. They parked up in a high-street, close to various shops. Sungmin stayed with the van to keep an eye on things while Kyuhyun made for the small gas station a few streets back. Hankyung had said that the undead probably wouldn’t notice him if he was quiet, so there was no need for anyone else to go with him.

Heechul and Hankyung scoped out a small convenience store to find anything edible. The floor was wet, the freezers all defrosted and leaking, and the shelves were all collapsed and smashed up. Hankyung’s pistol tapped gently against his side as he walked around the store, and Heechul looked at it oddly, though the Chinese man didn’t notice.

‘Why didn’t you get more food if you knew we’d be joining you?’ Heechul asked, looking miserably into the freezer at the submerged ice lollies floating around.

‘There weren’t any stores near the facility; it was hard to keep slipping past all of those armed military guys all the time.’ He shoved some tins into his rucksack. ‘If I tried to get more food I probably would’ve got caught.’

Heechul hummed, not interested in Hankyung’s reply. He leaned over the freezer, dipping his hand into the pool of melted ice absentmindedly. Hankyung took a moment to admire Heechul’s figure, noticing how tight his jeans were. His boots looked a bit loose, too. ‘Are those clothes okay?’ He asked, focusing his attention on something other than Heechul’s backside.

‘No, this shirt stinks, and these jeans make me look fat.’ Heechul grumbled.

‘The jeans look fine.’ Hankyung sighed. They looked more than fine, but Heechul must’ve been terribly uncomfortable in them. ‘There’s a clothes store across the way, we can pop in. Sungmin probably needs something more to his size anyway.’

\---

There was a gentle breeze ruffling Kyuhyun’s tangled, unruly hair, and the air smelled sweet and hot. The gas station loomed ahead, and as much as Kyuhyun listened all he heard was silence. He couldn’t even hear birds, just the wind rustling through the trees. How could this place be so deserted? It seemed almost untouched by the undead panic; the shops and small houses along the road were all intact save for a few broken windows, and cars were still parked along the kerb. A feeling of unease settled over him and his feet moved faster until the gas station was before him. A large petrol jug lay overturned beside a pump, and he picked it up, shook it to see if there were any dregs left behind, but it was empty. He kept it anyway, checking the pump for gas, but that was dry too.

He looked around slowly; saw the vans and trucks parked nearby. Would they be full? Maybe they’d been left behind because they were empty. There was a car parked at a pump behind him, though, and he struck gold. He knelt beside the car and tried to siphon the petrol out into the jug, distracted from the movement in his blind spot.

He froze at the sound of footsteps, heavy breathing, and pressed himself against the side of the car. He peered around the bonnet as a young woman stumbled by, dishevelled and rotting, armless and blind. He wobbled in his unbalanced position, shifted his weight, and clenched his teeth tightly as he knocked the jug over. He caught it deftly, but the noise of his scramble had already reached her ears. When he looked, she was looking back with her empty, blind eyes. Her mouth twitched grotesquely, and she took another step. Kyuhyun was ready to deal with her if she came near, but instead she turned away, continued walking without any interest in Kyuhyun.

He knelt there beside the car for a moment, stunned. Was it his smell? She’d definitely noticed him, but something had turned her off. Could she tell him apart from a human? It made sense; he supposed… they never fought eachother, the undead. They must’ve had some way to tell the living apart from the dead.

Did that mean he was dead, too?

He managed to fill the jug halfway, but that wasn’t enough. The vans and trucks were all dry, and he decided to check inside the gas station for any petrol they might have stashed away. He glanced at the windows of the living space above the station, and frowned as a curtain twitched, swayed. Someone was here.

He entered slowly, cautiously, the light door closing quietly behind him as his dirty sneakers squeaked on the lino. His eyes followed bloody drag marks, dark and dry, to a pair of corpses lying rotting and swollen, flies buzzing around the dead flesh. He looked them over curiously; they looked like they’d been dead for a long time. There were gunshot wounds in their chests, their legs… and their foreheads. Someone had shot them, and they hadn’t died until that last bullet hit the sweet spot. If they were zombies, then maybe someone – someone alive – was still here, hiding, waiting for more to come. Glass crunched beneath his feet as he stepped over broken milk bottles, past blood smeared freezers and collapsed shelves. He approached the cash register, and with caution he leant across the counter, checking beneath. Nobody was there, yet the unease still gripped him.

Maybe it was just his imagination.

He got back on task, made for the staff door, and tapped it open gently. The hairs on his arms stood to attention at the sound of shuffling, and he listened hard as he stepped into a small hallway. Muffled, fast breathing came from the top of the staircase before him, a dim light swinging back and forth eerily. The door at the top of the stairs was slightly ajar, and he walked up quietly, warily. The breathing grew louder in his ears as he approached the top, and when he twisted the doorknob he heard a whisper, something he couldn’t understand.

He entered a small flat, wrecked and filled with garbage, tatty curtains barely covering the windows. He knew there was someone here, but where? The room was dim despite the light struggling in through the curtains, and garbage bags were everywhere. He walked further into the room, but before he could speak a bag toppled over, the contents spilling out onto the floor followed by a panicked squeak and a heavily accented voice hissing ‘Henry!’

He stepped toward the voices, and when he peered over the tower of garbage he found two young men looking back at him with terror in their eyes. Before he could speak, the smaller man let out a yell, and the skinnier man beside him fumbled around himself. In the blink of an eye Kyuhyun was staring down the barrel of a shotgun, and he twisted away in shock, but it was too late.

He fell to the ground with an agonised grunt, clutching the wound in his chest. They’d shot his heart, and if he hadn’t have moved before, they would’ve shot his head. He wheezed, panicking. The pain was immense, was he going to die? He looked at his hands in his shock, expecting them to be covered with blood, but they were clean. His hands stopped trembling and he let out a shaky breath. It was just a panic attack, his mind telling him to react. Of course he wouldn’t die, nor would he bleed. He had no blood. He had no heartbeat.

The two men stood over him, the skinny, lanky man still pointing the shotgun in his face. If he moved they’d shoot him, and this time he’d die. The smaller man said something, then, quick and strange. Chinese? He took the chance, then, as the taller man was distracted.

‘Wait!’ He yelled, and the two Chinese men looked ready to scream. ‘I’m not going to hurt you.’

They exchanged looks, stunned. The taller man let his gun slacken, but his eyes were still wide and unblinking as he stared at Kyuhyun, even as he readjusted his glasses. The smaller man was the first to speak.

‘Why can you speak?’ he said in a rush. His accent was odd, a western twang to it.

‘It’s complicated.’ Kyuhyun groaned. He pressed his hand to where the bullet tore through his muscles. It was still tender, even if it wasn’t fatal. ‘Could you give me a hand?’ he asked the smaller man, and he was quick to oblige. The lanky man was still staring at him, and Kyuhyun stared back as he got to his feet, making him step back and stumble over a pile of rubbish, falling ungracefully. The smaller man didn’t seem to care about his friend, still cautious about Kyuhyun.

‘What are you here for? We don’t want trouble.’

‘I was looking for some petrol.’ He pulled the lanky Chinese man back to his feet with ease. ‘You two just happened to be here. What about you? Why are you here?’ For some reason, he felt comfortable talking to them – well, the smaller man, anyway. Could the taller man even speak Korean?

‘We’ve been here for a few months hiding. You gave us a shock, nobodies been here for a while so we weren’t ready.’ The smaller man explained. ‘I’m Henry, by the way.’ He gestured to the rumpled Chinese man beside him. ‘This is Zhoumi’

Zhoumi spoke, then, a 1000 watt smile on his face so bright Kyuhyun almost flinched. ‘Are you some sort of superhuman zombie superhero?’

There was a pause, and Henry almost jumped out of his skin as a hearty laugh burst from Kyuhyun’s lungs. ‘Yeah,’ he said, still laughing, ‘something like that.’

\--  
Sungmin swivelled around lazily on Hankyung’s chair, his head lolling back, wishing he was outside too. He’d been in the van for two hours now, and he was beyond fed up. What was his part in all this anyway? Heechul and Hankyung were weirder than before, and Kyuhyun wasn’t even human – so what about him? He felt exactly the same, useless. Was he just Kyuhyun’s meat, now, or was there something else Hankyung was keeping him for? He hated feeling useless. He still felt tired from the blood loss of last night, and he knew Kyuhyun would want more soon. Would he be this weak every time?

He hated being treated like a piece of delicate china. Ever since that night of college he’d been doted on by everybody, weak and useless. He was strong and quick; he’d even dabbled in martial arts back in school. When would he get the chance to be of use?

He puffed out his cheeks, cursing his cuteness for misleading people. He rested his legs on the desk before him, wondering if Kyuhyun was okay. He’d been gone for a while now; it shouldn’t be taking him so long just to find gas, surely? Heechul and Hankyung were so lucky, he thought. He had no idea what Kyuhyun was, now. He had no idea what he was thinking.

He glanced briefly at the screens to see if anybody was around, but his quick glance changed to a closer look. Panic settled in his chest for a moment, but it dissipated. There was a small group of undead passing by one of the cameras, and even then they were in the distance. He leaned back in the chair again. They wouldn’t be much trouble, they’d probably go right past.

But as he watched the screen, panic filled him once again. There were more, and more after that. They were spread apart at first, but then the crowd started to thicken. In seconds every screen showed a horde writhing past the cameras, he could hear them outside moaning, brushing against the van.

He gripped the chairs armrests in terror. He needed to warn everybody, but how? The van felt safe enough, but what if they somehow managed to get in? Did they know he was inside?

He looked at the screens in despair, and silently he prayed Kyuhyun came back alive.

\----

_March, 2018_

They camped out on a hill that night, bare road and vast fields all around them. Jungsu leant against the bonnet of the van, hands deep in his pockets as he gazed absentmindedly into the distance. The sky was clear and the snow had melted quickly with the coming of spring. Lights twinkled in the darkness, either fires or street lamps. Or maybe there were still people out there, holding on like him.

He touched his fingers gently to the soreness of his neck, felt the heat rise in his cheeks. His mind had been filled with thoughts of the morning all day, just looking at Youngwoon made him shiver. Only in his fantasies had he ever imagined Youngwoon touching him like that, but in reality it felt so much better. His neck and chest were covered in small bruises, his lips still sore from Youngwoon’s rough kisses.

He sighed out loud, but this wasn’t a sigh of frustration or sadness, it was one of satisfaction. He tilted his head back, smiled at the stars. Youngwoon wanted him and that was more than enough reason to be happy.

The stench of sweat and semen clung to his skin, though, and his smile wilted a little. He’d kill for a shower. He didn’t want Youngwoon around him when he was so dirty, it was embarrassing. His hair was greasy and limp, still messy from their morning tussle, and his jaw was prickly with stubble.  
‘Hey.’ Jungsu jumped out of skin, looking sharply towards the voice to see Youngwoon walking towards him.  
‘You scared me.’

Youngwoon sat on the bonnet beside Jungsu, looked down at his hands. ‘I’m sorry.’ He mumbled solemnly, and Jungsu smiled.  
‘It’s okay I should be paying more attention, you could’ve been one of those things…’  
‘Not for that.’

He frowned. ‘Then for what?’

‘For being a bastard,’ He kept his eyes cast downward, ‘All the time.’

Jungsu laughed softly, looking fondly at Youngwoon. ‘It’s okay. I’m used to it.’

Youngwoon looked at him then, and Jungsu felt his heart quicken. ‘You shouldn’t have to be used to it.’ He said with a voice more earnest than Jungsu had ever heard it before.   
‘I’ve treated you like crap and I’ve hurt you, and I just… I’ll never do it again.’

Jungsu’s palms were sweating nervously and he rubbed them on his jeans, looking away. Youngwoon’s gaze was intense.

‘Where did this come from all of a sudden?’ He asked with exasperation. ‘You’re like a completely different person today.’

He felt Youngwoon’s fingers touch his own, and when he looked down they were entwined. He met Youngwoon’s eyes again, but his face was closer now.

‘Do you like this new person?’ He asked. Jungsu smiled.

‘It’s an improvement.’

Youngwoon closed the distance, and Jungsu couldn’t help smiling into the kiss, throwing his arms around Youngwoon’s shoulders as the bigger man spread his legs, pressed him against the bonnet. When they broke apart for air, Jungsu was still smiling.

‘What are you smiling at?’ Youngwoon grinned.

‘You stink.’

‘So do you.’ He kissed Jungsu again, and they broke apart laughing.

But something caught Jungsu’s eye, then. Was it getting darker? Light twinkled in the corner of his eye, and he looked past Youngwoon, past the sprawling fields to the deserted city beyond.

‘What’s wrong?’ Youngwoon asked, turning to see what Jungsu was gawking at.

Together they stared with an unexplainable disquiet as the city turned black, twinkling lights going out one by one until only flames and stars remained.

‘I don’t think that’s a good sign.’ Jungsu said quietly.

‘No. Me neither.’

-

A dirty sneaker kicked open the shop door making it slam noisily against the inside wall, a bell chiming cheerfully, and Hyukjae stepped inside with Youngwoon in tow. A sharp smack to the back of his neck made Hyukjae yelp, and Youngwoon shook his head, walking into the shop. ‘You don’t have to be so noisy, goddamn.’ He said. ‘I’m surprised you survived this long, Donghae must be fed up with you.’ He disappeared behind a tall shelf, and Hyukjae shrugged. He pulled on the door handle, letting it swing shut, the bell above it jingling noisily as it slammed. Youngwoon’s irritated face leered at him between two boxes of cereal and Hyukjae laughed weakly, turning his attention to something less noisy. He leaned against the checkout counter, pressing random buttons on the cash register as Youngwoon threw cans lazily into a shopping basket.

‘Do you think there’s anybody here? I mean, like, anything?’

He heard Youngwoon toss a few more cans into the basket before he replied. ‘If there was, they’d be here by now with all the fucking noise you’re making.’  
Hyukjae laughed, pressing more buttons. ‘Don’t you think it’s weird, though?’ He said.

‘What?’

‘I don’t know… We haven’t seen many, have we? Zombies, I mean. Even on the highway there were only a few.’ Youngwoon grunted his agreement, checking the expiry date on a tin of beans. ‘We should’ve taken way longer to get this far, right? That’s what it’s like in all the movies…’ Hyukjae stopped speaking abruptly as the drawer of the cash register popped out, hitting him hard in the stomach. Youngwoon clicked his tongue and kept looking around the shop, picking up snacks here and there.

But Hyukjae had raised a good point. Two weeks and they were already miles away from Seoul, just a few more days and they’d be past Incheon, too. Nobody had been bitten, scratched; in fact, nobody had been hurt at all. The only dangerous encounter they’d had was weeks ago when Youngwoon had a struggle at the supermarket, and even that wasn’t too bad. He could hear Hyukjae exclaiming about how full the cash drawer was, counting the money out loud. Money was no use now though, was it? It was odd how the whole world could collapse beneath the threat of the undead, while just four young men could stroll along a car-wrecked highway without feeling any sense of peril. Where had they gone, all these undead? It was ominous, and a deep frown settled on Youngwoon’s forehead. The lights going out last night had unnerved him… and Jungsu, too.

He slid open the small freezer beside the counter and reached inside, picking up an ice-cream and feeling the contents slosh around inside the wrapper. He dropped it back down, sighing. ‘It’s really gone, then.’

Hyukjae stopped counting for a moment, leaned over the counter to see what he was doing. ‘What’s gone? Hyung, there are other ice-creams; you don’t have to look so disappointed.’

‘I’m not talking about ice-cream you idiot. The electricity is gone.’

‘Oh. Well, still, we don’t need electricity, do we? What does it matter?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ Youngwoon walked to the fridge. ‘But it feels like a bad sign.’

‘Hey, lighten up!’ Hyukjae grumbled. ‘You never used to be like this, we can’t even joke around with you anymore ‘cos it feels like you’re gonna kill us.’

Youngwoon chuckled. ‘Yeah, I know. I’m sorry for being grumpy, things are just...’ he opened the fridge, browsing. ‘I’ve been a bad friend lately, haven’t I?’ He grabbed a can of coke, still cool, and jumped when Hyukjae’s face appeared beside him, gummy smile in place. ‘What?’ He laughed.

‘What’s going on with you and Jungsu, then?’ He beamed, and Youngwoon groaned.

‘It’s none of your business.’

‘Ah~, so it’s true?’ He grinned wider. ‘I never thought this would happen, I thought you were all about the ladies.’

Youngwoon slammed the fridge door, cursing lightly under his breath as he checked behind the counter for some alcohol. ‘What about you?’

‘What?’

‘You and Donghae,’ Youngwoon expanded. ‘You seem close.’

He heard Hyukjae laugh nervously behind him. ‘It’s nothing like that, we’re just friends.’

‘You went through a lot just to save your friend, don’t you think?’

‘What do you mean?’ Hyukjae said weakly, warily. ‘Anyone would do that much for a friend.’

‘Well, Donghae must be a really special friend if you’re ready to do something that drastic in a heartbeat.’

He heard Hyukjae step closer, a hint of anger in his voice. ‘What are you implying?’

‘You could’ve saved Kibum, right?’ Youngwoon asked lightly, calmly. ‘But you just left him to die. Wasn’t he your friend, too?’

There was a long pause; Youngwoon could almost hear Hyukjae thinking up a reply, an excuse. But all that he heard was a bitter laugh. ‘Kibum would’ve slowed us down.’ He said simply, as if it were a casual chat. ‘His ankle would’ve gotten infected, anyway. I was pumped up on adrenaline; I just grabbed Donghae and ran. Kibum was my friend; I wouldn’t have left him if there was a better option.’

Youngwoon gave a lazy nod, dismissing his excuses. He grabbed a few cans of beer, tossed them into the basket and turned, fixing Hyukjae with a cold, hard stare.

‘I’m not as stupid as I look. Don’t even think about trying anything on me. I know you’re plotting something, but I’m getting Jungsu safe whether you like it or not, and you better not try and stop us. I like you, Hyuk; but if I have to hurt you, I will.’

He walked out of the shop, the bell chiming as Hyukjae stood, dumbfounded; but his surprise turned to stone-cold resolve in seconds, and he followed Youngwoon grudgingly back to the cars. He rubbed at a sore scar on the back of his head from where he’d fallen in the woods, and glared coldly at Youngwoon’s back. He could prove to be more trouble than Hyukjae had originally thought, and a wicked smile spread across his face. Yes, they’d be easy to deal with.

And then Donghae would be his.

\----

_May, 2018_

Heechul groaned as the door closed behind him, taking in the sight of the drab, plain clothes. ‘This isn’t my style…’ he grumbled moodily, taking a shirt off a rack and pulling a face. Hankyung just sighed. ‘Hurry up and get something,’ he said. ‘We need to get going.’

‘Hey, fashion takes time, don’t rush me.’ Heechul picked out a few items of clothing with care. ‘Especially when this is what I have to work with.’ He disappeared into the small changing room at the back of the modest clothing store, and Hankyung wandered around, keeping watch.

He undressed quickly, buying clothes (well, a lot of the time he didn’t actually buy them) was his favourite pastime; but when he caught his nude reflection in the mirror he flinched. He was so thin, pale. He noticed how his ribs were showing, how sharp his hip bones seemed. His skin was bruised from Hankyung’s strong grip, and he touched the marks gently. He was cold, though he didn’t feel it himself. Maybe he was ill? He heard Hankyung shuffling about outside the dressing room. ‘We don’t have all day, Heechul.’ He moaned impatiently, and Heechul smiled.

‘Come in and tell me what you think of this outfit.’

‘I don’t care about your clothes just hurry up.’

‘Just look.’

He heard Hankyung huff from the other side of the curtain before he pulled it back, his eyes widening at Heechul’s nakedness. Heechul smirked wickedly, but Hankyung just looked away. ‘It’s terrible, you should try something else.’

Heechul laughed, pulling Hankyung into the cubicle by his shirt collar, and he kissed him with a smile. Hankyung pushed him back until his skin was against the cold glass of the mirror, and Heechul quickly got to undressing the taller man between wet kisses and gasps for air.

Large hands cupped his buttocks, lifting him and pressing him hard against the cool glass of the mirror, grinding against him. He sighed against Hankyung’s insistent mouth, gasped at the sensation of deft fingers filling him, stretching him. Hankyung whispered an apology against his neck. ‘We should really try this with lubrication some time; it’s probably a lot more pleasant.’ Heechul only grinned in response, gripping Hankyung’s shoulders as he slowly filled him. He cried out for him to move, throwing his head back as he built up a toe-curling rhythm.

Hankyung watched the unveiled pleasure on Heechul’s face, his red lips parted sinfully. He felt his thighs tighten around his hips with every thrust, his hips rolling to meet him. But as he watched, he also saw Heechul change. He breathed heavily against Hankyung’s lips, his fingers running up and down his back. And when he looked at Heechul’s half-lidded eyes, he felt cold. Blue. Hankyung hissed as Heechul’s nails scraped at his skin, harder, harder, until he ripped at his very flesh. He threw his head back, groaning in pain; but Heechul was ignorant to his agony, pressing his lips to Hankyung’s neck, grazing the skin with his teeth. He sunk lower, drawing a path of sore red down Hankyung’s chest.

Hankyung tangled his fingers in Heechul’s hair, gasping from the pain, and with a sharp tug Heechul seemed to snap out of his insanity. A sharp, shuddering breath left Hankyung’s lips in relief, but Heechul’s hand shot up to cover his mouth. ‘Be quiet,’ he whispered, a tinge of blue still coating his pupils. For a moment Hankyung was confused, until he heard the door squeak outside, the sound of footsteps, and flesh against glass.

Heechul let him go and dressed himself in a rush, and Hankyung followed suit, though he was slower, his face pinched in pain. Heechul turned to open the curtain, but Hankyung grabbed his arm and stole a kiss before he could go. The kiss was deep even though he could taste his own blood on Heechul’s lips, and when they broke apart the look on his face was one that made Heechul hesitate for a second.

He had no time to see what was wrong with Hankyung, though, and upon opening the curtain he gasped. There were five of them, their sights set on him. Hankyung groaned behind him, but when he turned to see if he was okay he found himself stepping away instead.

A single, ear-shattering gunshot pierced the air and an undead fell beside him. Hankyung stood hunched over, leaning heavily against the dressing room wall with his pistol in hand. ‘I’m fine.’ He mumbled. Heechul could see that he wasn’t, but he nodded and turned away. Another gunshot sounded, another undead fell, and Heechul turned to the closest ghoul, his hands gripping its clammy neck hard as he twisted sharply, the bone jutting out as its body went limp. He let it fall to the ground, marvelling at how easy it seemed. The next came lumbering up behind him, and he turned quickly, grabbing it by the collar and pushing it backwards until it came up against the counter, and he smashed its head against the thick glass until it turned red.

‘Heechul!’ Hankyung shouted, but he already knew what he was shouting for. He turned, and in a flash his leg lashed out, kicking hard and impaling the corpse on a clothes rack. It writhed, walking itself off the rack towards Heechul, and he grimaced, looking left and right for something blunt or sharp. His hand found a clothes hanger, and he drove it hard into the undead’s skull. He let out a shaky breath, looked at his hands, the flesh beneath his nails. Hankyung.

He was collapsed in the changing room, clutching his chest. His shirt was bloody and a bright stain was smeared on the wall behind him from where he’d leant against it and slid to the floor. Heechul felt faint all of a sudden. He’d done this. He walked over to him in panic, knelt beside him. ‘Are you okay?’

Hankyung nodded. ‘It stings.’ He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘You should cut your nails, it’s not sexy.’ He saw the look on Heechul’s face, though, and added sombrely, ‘It’ll heal quickly, you only scratched me. There are more important things to focus on than me right now.’

Heechul wanted to ask him what he meant by more important things, because the most important thing he could think of right then was Hankyung, but the door squeaked and he understood. He got to his feet in a flash and saw the gathering, the mass outside the store. They must’ve been attracted by the scuffle, but where were they all coming from? Had something happened to Sungmin? They were slow, though, and only one was making its way into the shop. He pushed it back out of the door with brute strength and closed it behind him, panting. What could he do? He had to barricade them in, but that would trap them – unless there was a back door. There had to be a staff room or something, right? Hands slapped against the door behind him, a gruesome face pressed against the glass. He quickly moved away from the door, pushing a clothes rail against it before anything could get through. He moved them all until they were completely barricaded. How long would it take them to break the glass? To push the flimsy rails over? It would buy them some time, at least.

He walked back over to Hankyung, a sick sensation in his stomach. Whenever he touched Hankyung he turned into a monster. What was happening to him? How did he kill three undead so effortlessly? He looked at Hankyung with eyes full of fear, but Hankyung looked back with something else. Something that made him realise Hankyung knew something Heechul didn't.


	5. Chapter 5

May, 2018

When he’d asked the two Chinese men if there was any petrol left, they’d replied positively. There was a cellar beneath the gas station with a few emergency gas tanks, and they led the way down. ‘You speak better Korean than Hankyung.’ Kyuhyun said as the two chattered away as they descended the steps.

‘Who’s Hankyung?’ asked Henry. His voice echoed slightly. The electricity was out and even though Zhoumi had a small torch the cellar was still pitch black. It smelt damp and the air was moist and chilly.

‘I came with a group; there are three others.’

Henry’s tone of voice was tense and Kyuhyun could tell he wanted to talk to take his mind off the darkness, latching eagerly onto this new source of conversation. ‘Where are they?’ Zhoumi’s curiosity was piqued, also, as he asked: ‘Why did you come alone?’

‘I guess I’m just expendable.’ He shrugged, though he was at the back of the group so neither of them saw the motion. Zhoumi sighed.

‘You’re lucky to be with so many people.’

‘Why are you two here, anyway?’ The two didn’t look related, but they were too buddy-buddy to be strangers. Zhoumi flashed the torched around the cellar as they reached the bottom of the steps; damp, mossy walls an eerie green-grey under the light. The stone floor was very wet but it didn’t feel like water… something thicker, more viscous. As they walked further into the space, they saw overturned gas tanks, seemingly having spilled their contents a while ago. There were a few still upright, though.

‘Pass me that jug.’ Henry said, and Kyuhyun handed it to him. He put it beneath a crank jammed inside one of the tanks and started to fill it with effort. Zhoumi told him their story as the petrol dripped thick and slow into the container.

They’d worked at a convenience store a few streets away. When shit went down, they ran to the gas station. It seemed safe at a glance, but they’d nearly lost their heads when they burst through the door. A man had been hiding out there, shotgun held firmly in his shaking hands and his nervous finger a little too tight on the trigger. Luckily he’d missed. The three of them ended up holing up there for a few days before they realised the man had a wound. At the time they hadn’t known that it would turn him into one of those things, they’d just let it be. In the end, he turned. Zhoumi shot him when he’d tried to have Henry for supper, a few times in the chest before he got lucky and managed a headshot. A wandering undead had entered attracted by the noise, which explained the two dead bodies on the shop floor. They stayed in the flat upstairs since, peeking out of the window whenever they heard a noise and surviving off chocolate and soda and instant noodles.

The jug was too heavy for Henry to pick up when he’d filled it, but Kyuhyun lifted it with ease. Zhoumi’s story made him think of something discomforting, and as they left the clammy cellar behind, he couldn’t help but raise the issue.

‘When you shot me, it must’ve made a lot of noise. Your ears should still be ringing. You’d probably have heard it from a street away, right?’

Henry, ascending the narrow stairs ahead of him, gave a nod. ‘It’s likely.’

‘Then you’re probably not safe here anymore.’

They reached the shop floor and Zhoumi walked stiffly over to the checkout counter. ‘Woah, Woah! Don’t say something so ominous.’ His bright smile seemed a little dim this time. He turned to the blinds beside the counter and gently twisted one of the rungs, a slit of sunshine making him squint. He let out a sharp breath suddenly and Kyuhyun felt the hairs on his arms stand on edge.

‘What is it?’ asked Henry in a panic. He ran to Zhoumi’s side and pulled the blinds up completely, stepping back in shock as the scene outside was revealed. ‘Holy…’

…Shit he thought. His stomach dropped, dread filling his mind.

From the window they could see the next street, a crowd of undead roaming, seeming to spill out onto the main road. Sungmin was in that road, inside the van. Was he safe? Even if Hankyung had left him the keys, Sungmin couldn’t drive. The undead didn’t seem to be coming their way for the moment and he turned to Henry and Zhoumi, ready to take action, but something made him hesitate. He looked at them, together. An odd thought came into his mind, one that made him swallow thickly, and he thought for a second he felt tears sting his eyes.

Maybe they’d already left. Maybe Hankyung and Heechul and Sungmin were in the van right now, miles away, while he’d been here wasting time like an idiot. Maybe shit had hit the fan and they’d had no time to find him, so they’d simply given up. He was expendable, right?

He took a breath, shook it off. No. Hankyung had said he needed him. He put his faith in that, though he didn’t trust the man. Sungmin could still be out there, alone and in danger. He said his name under his breath in a cold, crisp voice, and Henry looked at him with wide, scared eyes. ‘Who’s Sungmin?’ he asked, his tone high pitched.

‘Someone important to me.’ He pointed down the street. ‘And he’s out there.’

Zhoumi looked at him, the jolly aura he’d given off since they’d met suddenly gone. ‘If we can help at all, just tell us. We’re not very useful, but we’ll try.’

‘I’ll be fine alone. You two should get out of here, they’ll notice you soon enough… somehow.’

‘Look…’ said Henry. He was staring out the window again. Kyuhyun asked what he wanted them to look at, and he pointed down the street at something. ‘They’re all crowding around that building.’

It must be Heechul and Hankyung he thought. He was relieved by that, cruel as it was. He cared little of what happened to them, as long as the attention was drawn away from Sungmin, he might have a better chance of getting to him before something else did.

‘Are you sure you don’t want our help?’ Zhoumi asked again. Kyuhyun nodded, and the Chinese man smiled sadly.

He turned and walked away, but as his hand touched the door handle he gave them one last look. ‘I’ll try and come back. Try and stay alive, if I don’t find you before the sun goes down then just go.’

‘Will you take us with you?’ Henry asked, his face full of hope and fear.

‘I’ll see what I can do. Hurry up and get somewhere safe.’

As the door rattled shut behind him the sound of soulless cries filled his ears from every direction. He had no weapon, only the jug of petrol in his hand. Maybe he could fight his way through bare handed? Would they even notice him?

In the midst of these thought his eyes fell upon the car he’d tried for gas before. He walked over to it and snapped off the exhaust pipe. It seemed brittle, but with his strength it might suffice long enough to get to Sungmin… if he even had to use it at all.

He looked back at the gas station and saw Zhoumi and Henry waving at him from the shop window. He smiled. He turned away. He wondered why he wanted to help them, anyway. He didn’t know these people, not to mention they’d shot him. Even before the whole zombie thing Kyuhyun was someone you’d consider insensitive, he was in his own world most of the time. They must’ve done a lot of strange things to me in the facility he thought. He knew he was lying to himself, but it made the discomfort fade away, if only a little. He’d lost every feeling he’d once possessed, but they were coming back fast and strong along with everything he’d suppressed – subconsciously or not.

He tightened his grip on the exhaust pipe, felt its coldness against his palm. He strode toward the gathering of undead, let his shoulders droop, made his legs stiffen, and he blended into the mass of stumbling, groaning corpses.

 

\--

April, 2018

Jungsu awoke pleasantly, firmly pressed against Youngwoon’s chest. He smiled, yawned. The smell of Youngwoon was musty and foul, but he supposed he smelt somewhat the same. In an odd, gross way… it was almost comforting. He peeled himself away from the bear-like man and stretched out on the mattress. The inside of the truck was a honey gold colour, the light soft and full as it flooded through the windscreen behind him. When he finally resolved to get up, he sat in the passenger seat of the truck and felt the warm sun on his face. It seemed spring would be with them soon. He decided to put the radio on, but to his disappointment the signal was barely there and he was greeted only with the sound of static. It was a silly thought, he supposed, that someone would be there to DJ in the middle of the apocalypse. He opened the dashboard and rummaged through the CD’s stashed inside. He didn’t bother seeing what it was, and when he played it he wondered what kind of truck driver would listen to the Wonder Girls.

He relaxed for a while as Youngwoon snored to the rhythm of the music. After a while, though, he realised it was somehow too quiet. He checked the time on the trucks radio and frowned. Donghae should’ve woken them up hours ago, it was already midday. He stepped out of the truck, curious. The wind whipped his knotty hair this way and that as he stood there on the side of the road, brows furrowed. He looked around for Donghae’s car frantically, but it was gone. His stomach coiled, sweat beading on his brow.

They’d been left behind.

\--

Donghae was lulled from his slumber by the hum of a car engine, the sound of fingers tapping against the steering wheel. A cocoon of warmth surrounded him, a scratchy woollen blanket draped over his body. He sat up, letting the material slump and fall in to his lap as he rubbed his sleepy eyes. The car was bright with yellow sunlight, and as he looked blearily out of the window at the blurring cityscape he suddenly sobered. Why were they moving? Had something happened? They must’ve been running away from something, something must have happened while he was sleeping. He wondered why Hyukjae hadn’t woken him up, but shrugged it off. Obviously Hyuk hadn’t had time, or maybe he’d wanted to give him some extra time to sleep.

He ran his fingers through his chocolaty locks groggily, let out a quiet yawn and leaned between the front seats to where Hyukjae was sat. He froze there a moment, his hand on the headrest of the passenger seat as he stared at Hyukjae’s face. It was strange, he couldn’t tell why, but it was. It made a chill tickle his skin, his mouth run dry.

Hyukjae’s eyes shifted, caught Donghae in the rear-view mirror, and his face changed. His big, bright gummy smile hung on his lips but Donghae didn’t feel any emotion behind it. ‘Good morning.’ The thick-lipped boy beamed at him, and Hae nodded back, climbing through the space between seats and slumping in the passenger seat, his head against the window.

‘Why are we driving?’ He asked. A moment passed without answer, he looked at Hyukjae. ‘Where’s Jungsu - and Youngwoon?’

Hyukjae’s smile seemed to falter slightly, stiffen on his face. Donghae wound down the window, staring hard at the side-mirror for any sign of the lorry, but the road behind them was clear.

‘Hey, Hyuk, stop the car, they must’ve fallen behind; they might have lost us or something.’ But Hyukjae continued to drive. In fact, Donghae thought they were going faster than before. ‘Why aren’t you stopping?’

That smile was back, the smile Donghae found more irritating by the second. Hyukjae always had the most infectious smile – when he smiled, everybody else started to smile too. But this wasn’t his smile. It was as if he wasn’t Hyukjae at all, at least not the Hyuk Donghae knew. This Hyuk was colder and harder, driven and determined and terrifying. He found himself shrinking back from that smile, his teeth grinding in his mouth in fear and irritation. ‘They’ll catch up eventually.’ He said; each word like cheap, brittle plastic. He felt the car speed up once again, saw Hyukjae’s knuckles turn bone-white from how tightly he was gripping the wheel.

‘Pull over.’ Donghae said firmly. Hyukjae ignored him. ‘Pull over.’ He repeated. Hyukjae was still ignorant, and he felt his temper rise, his heart race. He grabbed the wheel and Hyukjae yelled in surprise as he turned it sharply toward a lay-by. They slowed to a stop and Hyukjae looked at him blankly.

‘What’s your problem?’

‘What’s my problem? Do you see yourself?’ He yelled, exasperated. Hyukjae only looked back with that dumb, blank expression, and Donghae felt his hands twitch. The urge to punch him was unreal.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’ve been acting differently since that night at college, since we left Kibum behind.’ He shook his head; feeling tears of frustration sting his eyes. ‘I’m not an idiot.’

Hyukjae’s eyes were glassy, as if he wasn’t seeing Donghae at all. ‘I’m just doing what I need to do,’ he said calmly, ‘to keep us alive.’

‘How can leaving them behind possibly help?’

‘They were a burden.’

Donghae felt his stomach turn at Hyukjae’s cold words. ‘Do you hear yourself? They’re our friends-‘

‘-No.’ He cut in sharply. ‘They’re dangerous.’

Donghae couldn’t control his temper anymore, the frustration boiling inside him. He reached out, clutching Hyukjae’s head and shaking him hard. ‘Wake up!’ He wailed. ‘What is wrong with you? What happened-‘

He felt something beneath his fingers, a bump, the hair covering it all matted and tangled. When he let go of Hyukjae, he came away with flakes of burnt copper on his fingertips. Dry blood. ‘What’s this?’

‘It’s nothing.’

‘It’s something. What happened?’

Hyukjae rolled his eyes obnoxiously, let out a sigh. ‘When we were running that time… before we lost Kibum, I tripped. I bumped my head on something, it’s nothing important.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘It wasn’t important!’

‘We have to go back.’

Hyukjae scowled sourly. ‘Why?’

‘Jungsu might be able to help you!’

‘I don’t need help.’

Donghae wanted to hit him, punch his stupid face until it bled, but his body betrayed him and his fists stayed tightly clenched in his lap as a tear rolled down his cheek. ‘You do need help.’ He couldn’t look at him. ‘You’re not the same, not since we ran away from college. I want my best friend back.’

Hyukjae wasn’t moved by Donghae’s words, instead he bristled. The moment the words ‘best friend’ left Donghae’s lips his foot hit the pedal, and no matter how much Donghae yelled he wouldn’t stop. Donghae could only look at his best friend in fear and worry and wonder if Hyukjae would ever be the same as before.

\-------

Light flooded Youngwoon’s eyes as he awoke, making him groan and dive back beneath the duvet. ‘It’s late,’ said Jungsu softly, ‘you should get up.’ He let out another groan and rolled onto his back before sitting up, rubbing his temples as the cheerful beat of a pop song sped him along towards a headache. Damn it was bright; Donghae usually woke them up when the sun was still rising. He didn’t care much, though. The more sleep he got, the better.

Jungsu was in the driver’s seat, to his horror, but he swapped seats when he saw that Youngwoon was up. To which Youngwoon was thankful beyond expression. When he sat down he checked the time with a frown. ‘It’s late. Have you already had breakfast?’ Jungsu was silent, though, and when he looked at his face he saw the tension in his features, his downcast eyes.

He instinctively reached for the door handle, getting out of the truck and confirming his suspicions. He cursed as he clambered back into the truck, slamming the door with a bang and making the vehicle shake. If he’d looked, he would’ve noticed how Jungsu winced at the sound, how his body backed away by reflex. But he was too angry to think about anything other than punching Hyukjae in the face.

‘Where are they?’ He yelled. Jungsu shook his head softly.

‘I don’t know. I woke you up as soon as I realised they were gone. I don’t know when they left.’

Youngwoon cursed again. ‘We left everything in Donghae’s car.’ He thumped the driving wheel once, twice, before fixing a death glare on the windshield.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Jungsu, his eyes still focused on his lap, ‘we’re okay with just the two of us.’

Youngwoon nodded. ‘I knew I couldn’t trust Hyuk.’ He let out a sigh of frustration, shook his head. ‘He’s not the same guy I used to know.’

‘You can’t blame him for acting strangely after everything that’s happened. The fact that we haven’t cracked under these circumstances is far stranger than Hyukjae going crazy.’

‘I guess.’

There was silence between them after that, the two of them confused and frustrated and trying to get their heads around the situation. Youngwoon fidgeted in his seat. Something about this was awkward, now that it was just the two of them. Before they’d met up with Hyukjae and Donghae there’d been tension between them, but now that their feelings were clear it was a different kind of awkward.

Jungsu’s stomach growled, breaking the silence. ‘There was an exit a few miles back, we should get off the highway; try and find a store or an empty house to crash in. I’m sick of this truck.’ Jungsu looked out of the window, gave a soft nod. His mind was elsewhere. ‘You haven’t been eating, have you?’

‘I haven’t been hungry.’

Youngwoon bit his tongue to stop himself from yelling. He balled his fists and fixed Jungsu with a hard look. He was so unreasonable, it wasn’t as though they’d been short on food – they had enough junk food in Donghae’s car to last them a month, amongst the healthier snacks they’d grabbed – yet he’d been eating barely anything just to make it last a little longer. Youngwoon’s eyes raked over Jungsu’s appearance, his sharp jawline and jutting collarbones exposed by the low neckline of his sweat-stained shirt. His characteristically bright eyes were sunken and tired and his energy was drained. Yet he still didn’t complain or say he was tired or that he was hungry, he just smiled softly and shook his head and said he was fine. It pissed Youngwoon off. If Jungsu just told him he was feeling crappy he could pull his skinny body close and embrace him tightly, make him feel better, but he kept it all to himself and it felt as if he was pushing him away.

Youngwoon didn’t voice a single thought on the matter, though. He didn’t have the words; he didn’t know how to fix whatever was broken inside Jungsu. He just furrowed his brows and started up the truck, reversing and grumbling about his hatred for SNSD.

 

\--

 

The silence between them was cold and awkward and unusual. Whenever they were together they could chatter on and on for hours, and for the past two weeks the car had been filled with laughter and conversation. Now it was just tension that filled the atmosphere.

As they drove the tension only thickened; the road was littered with debris and they passed by wreckage after wreckage, one car was still ablaze. Donghae was on edge, and Hyukjae was glaring hard at the road ahead.

Soon enough they saw something odd in the distance and at first Donghae thought it was a wall, but as they drove closer a huge fence came into view. The smell of sea salt filled Donghae’s nostrils through the open window, a seagull screaming as it flew overhead. He caught his lower lip between his teeth, chewed it anxiously. If they were by the sea maybe there’d be boats to escape on, or maybe even a camp of survivors. He just didn’t know whether he wanted to find this sanctuary with the man beside him anymore. The fence grew taller and taller as they drove nearer, and Hyukjae started to slow down. It hit him then, the awful smell. Pungent and strong, rotten… a familiar scent.

Trees rose from the base of the gate, and only then did the two of them realise how tall it really was. Had this always been here? No. But how had they built something this huge so fast? The metal links glistened in the sunlight as if in welcome, as if to tell them this was the way out - that this was the end. But his eyes fell lower and lower until he was looking straight ahead, and the small smile that had sneaked onto his face fell away.

Something was moving at the base of the fence, writhing and weaving, and as they drove closer and closer it grew and grew. In moments Donghae’s eyes were wide and Hyukjae’s hands were trembling. Hundreds, maybe thousands of people were at the gates, densely packed and pushing eachother against the metal. No, they weren’t pushing, they were crushing eachother. A fly buzzed in the car, landing on the steering wheel as Hyukjae and Donghae stared ahead in shock and terror. Bloody, gnarled fingers hooked through the iron links, pulling and pulling and pushing and pushing. Donghae had been curious as to where the undead had disappeared to, but now he’d found them.

Donghae turned to Hyukjae and asked what they should do, but he only gazed at the crowd with wet eyes and said softly. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

Hae stared at him, then, feeling a lump rise in his throat. This was Hyukjae’s face, the Hyuk he used to know. When he wasn’t all gummy smiles and laughter, this was the face he wore; simple and nervous and terrified… his best friend.

He hit the wheel in frustration. ‘I just don’t know.’ He sniffed. ‘I’m just trying my best.’

His tears made Donghae’s heart ache, and his arms reached for his best friend, but he stopped short. They could hear his crying. They were coming. At first it was one or two but then more and more and in a matter of seconds half the crowd knew of their presence. He wanted to comfort Hyukjae, but now wasn’t the time.

‘You don’t have to do anything, Hyuk.’ Donghae said softly. ‘I’m just happy we’re alive, you don’t have to look after me. Pull yourself together.’

Hyukjae detached himself from the steering wheel, snot running from his nose and his eyes a sore red from his tears. He wiped his face with his sleeve, blinked through his watery eyes, and cursed at what he saw through the windscreen. He didn’t look at Donghae, he just span the car around and sped back the way they’d came. Donghae could only look at his best friend with affection, and soon tears filled his eyes too.

Weak and childish with a gummy smile and a heart too big for his chest, the Hyukjae he treasured dearly, the Hyukjae he’d lost two weeks ago, had returned.

-

‘Stay here.’ Youngwoon said, his hand already gripping the door handle. ‘I’ll check inside.’

‘No.’

‘What?’

‘I’m sick of waiting around. I’m as much of use as you, what’s the point in leaving me behind all the time?’

Youngwoon could only stare dumbly at Jungsu as the door slammed behind him, and as he disappeared into the house a feeling of anxiety settled over him. The hairs on his neck stood to attention, his mouth ran dry. Was this how Jungsu felt when Youngwoon would leave him behind? He suddenly felt vulnerable and defenceless and his heart trembled in his chest for fear of the other man coming to harm.

It was terrifying.

Jungsu had been silent and brooding all afternoon, and the drive was a tense one. In fact, it was always tense in the truck, but this was worse. He felt as if Jungsu was angry at him for something, he just couldn’t figure out what. He’d replayed his words over and over in his head, every sentence he could remember speaking in the past few days, but there was nothing that could’ve brought on this behaviour. It was sudden, this mood. He’d been fine yesterday, still not as bright as he was known to be, but still… not like this. His lips were drawn in a tight line, his eyes downcast. When they spoke, which was rare, his words were soft and he’d look away, not once meeting Youngwoon’s eyes. It was frustrating. Youngwoon was never a bright guy in terms of intelligence and he was especially terrible when it came to understanding how other people felt, but he thought being alone with Jungsu would force them out of their awkwardness. He was wrong.

They passed houses and flats and the lure of soft beds and doors and four strong walls was simply too enticing for Youngwoon to ignore, so he’d parked the truck despite Jungsu’s mumbles of disapproval. There were no cars parked on this street, no signs of carnage. It looked safe enough, but he couldn’t quell the fear that made his stomach churn, made his knuckles turn white as he gripped the steering wheel with crushing force. He must’ve only waited a few minutes, but each second felt like a lifetime. The palms of his hands were sore against the leather wheel and his heart was pounding in his chest when he saw a shadow in the doorway. He thought the worst, his teeth clenched, but the shadow moved into the sunlight and revealed its identity and his shoulders sagged; a breath left his lips in relief. Jungsu nodded from the porch and returned inside, oblivious to how distressed Youngwoon had been only moments before.

That man would be the death of him.

-  
They drove up and down the highway in search of Youngwoon and Jungsu, just in case they were wrong about where they’d left them, but they were nowhere to be found. The car slowed to a stop, the two of them utterly lost. He could see Hyukjae tearing up again, and he knew he was blaming himself. He was right to do that, to blame his stupid self, but Donghae still felt his own tears threatening to tumble down his cheeks. Because when Hyukjae cried, so did he.

Hyukjae shook his head, looking at Donghae, his face all dishevelled. Snot ran from his nose and his eyes and cheeks were raw and red from his tears, and Donghae couldn’t resist the urge to pull him close and embrace him. He sniffed, sobbed against his shoulder. ‘I didn’t mean for this to happen.’ He choked, ‘I just wanted us to be safe.’

 

‘I know.’ Donghae whispered, and he was crying too, but not from sadness or frustration or anger. He cried from happiness, and he knew it was twisted, but his best friend was back; the soft-hearted cry-baby he loved. He didn’t want to let go, to push him away, but he had to. They needed to move, to get away. This time Donghae was the one taking control. Youngwoon and Jungsu would be fine alone, and so would they. He just needed to drive, far and fast, away from the corpses shambling and moaning as they chased them on broken, bleeding ankles. It didn’t matter where they went; they just had to keep driving, and when they couldn’t drive anymore they’d run until their feet bled and ached, until there was nowhere left to run.

 

They’d swim if they had to.

\--

They were relieved to find the house still had running water, even if it was icy cold. There was paper strewn about here and there, some possessions lying around on the floor, but it didn’t look like there’d been any desperate battles for survival fought in this house. In fact, from what Jungsu had seen on the drive here, the whole neighbourhood seemed untouched. It seemed as if the people here had packed up their necessities and made a run for it while they still could.

 

They gathered up the papers and other flammables and Youngwoon let loose on the trees in the backyard, stacking the fireplace up with twigs and small branches and tossing the paper on top before kindling a fire with a lighter they’d found in a kitchen drawer. Youngwoon sat and boiled water in pots and pans over the fire before taking them upstairs and emptying them into the bathtub.

 

Jungsu scoured the kitchen while Youngwoon was filling the bath, searching through the cupboards. Almost everything had perished, though, turning to goo or dust or going stale and mouldy. His eyes fell upon a rice cooker, and inside he found some leftover rice – if you could still call it rice. It was a thick paste, now, off-white and lumpy, but it made his stomach roar all the same. Youngwoon returned to his side, catching him gazing lustily at the offensive substance. He wrinkled his nose and told him to get in the bath.

 

He’d almost forgotten about the bath, in truth, but as he peeled off his dirty clothes and stepped into the lukewarm heat of the porcelain tub, he almost mistook this hell they’d found themselves in for heaven. The water turned a murky grey in seconds as the sweat and dirt washed off his skin, and he submerged himself beneath the grey-green darkness, watched bubbles rise to the surface as he exhaled. The water roared in his ears and his eyes stung but he still lay submerged, his lungs screaming for breath. When he rose, he rose dripping wet, panting and blinking the water from his eyes as he ran his fingers through his hair.

 

He held his knees toward his chest and bit his lip. His mind was a whirlwind of fear and worry and excitement and thrill. Could they escape without the help of Donghae and Hyukjae? And if they did escape, where would they go? What if China’s borders were still closed, or if it was worse there than here? Then where would they go?

 

But the heaviest thought on his mind, the one that made his heart thrum and the goose pimples rise on his arms and legs, was Youngwoon. Of course it was Youngwoon. Now that they were alone, completely alone, he was frightened and self-conscious. He couldn’t fight the nagging voice at the back of his mind telling him Youngwoon didn’t feel the same, that he’d only touched him, kissed him and held him out of fear and desperation, thinking his life could end at any moment. Where Jungsu had love, he could only imagine Youngwoon feeling lust. Jungsu felt his fair share of lust too, though. He wanted Youngwoon’s rough hands gripping his hips, his lips kissing him, bruising him as he fucked him breathless. But Jungsu was clingy and sappy, he didn’t want Youngwoon to grow tired of him, he wanted him to want him too. He wanted him to long for him as he longed for Youngwoon.

 

Besides, Youngwoon had never been with a man before. Yes, they’d touched, but it was brief and rushed, a spur of the moment. He didn’t know if he could handle it if Youngwoon should shun him, should he feel appalled by Jungsu’s nakedness, his bare masculinity.

 

He was disturbed from his thoughts as the bathroom door swung open, Youngwoon entering with two bowls in hand. When he saw Jungsu in the bath, though, he turned away. ‘Sorry.’ He said.

 

‘Why?’ asked Jungsu incredulously. ‘We’re both men, the water is too disgusting to see anything anyway.’

Youngwoon turned back towards him, his face a shade redder than before. He grunted, seemingly embarrassed by his overly dramatic reaction. He walked stiffly over to Jungsu and offered him a bowl. ‘I brought some rice.’ He stated stiffly. ‘Eat.’

 

‘In the bath?’

 

‘Why not?’

Jungsu didn’t bother arguing. To his surprise it tasted alright, considering it was a bowl of plain, porridge-like rice. As he spooned up the sludge, Youngwoon stepped away. He watched, confused, but his confusion melted away as Youngwoon proceeded to undress. There was nothing special about Youngwoon’s body, but the fact that it was Youngwoon’s body was enough to add a small sparkle to his eyes as they raked up and down his physique unabashedly.

‘Why are you getting undressed?’ he asked through a mouthful of runny rice.

 

‘There’s room for two.’

‘But the water is disgusting…’ Youngwoon, ignoring his protests, climbed into the bath and Jungsu felt the heat rise in his cheeks. Something else may have started to rise too. He shifted awkwardly in the small tub to give Youngwoon room and they ended up crushed together, knee against knee. The water spilled over the edge of the bath in a wave at the added mass, and a moment of silence passed between them as they contemplated the situation.

 

‘The water’s cold.’ Youngwoon stated after a pause.

 

‘Yeah.’

 

‘This was a bad idea.’

 

‘Definitely.’

 

Youngwoon’s lower lip curled up in a smirk, trembling slightly before they both erupted in laughter at the mess they’d made. It was the end of the world and here they were: in a stranger’s house in a cold bath, eating rice.

\--

March, 2018

Hankyung sat hunched over in the corner of the small storage closet at the back of the store, breathless as Heechul pounded on a narrow glass window with bloody fists. His shirt was pulled up and he watched the scratches on his chest swell and turn pink and pale as they healed. The glass shattered, small pieces falling inwards and landing by his feet. Heechul stood above him, blood dripping from his disfigured knuckles. The light shone in through the window behind him turning him into a dark silhouette, but he could see his blue-black eyes clearly, filled with betrayal, with pain. Heechul turned away. ‘Come.’ He said. He placed his hands flat on the windowsill and hoisted himself up, dropping to the floor outside.

 

Hankyung got to his feet, grimacing at the sting. He felt heavy, disheartened; guilty for letting Heechul’s condition get so far, for lying to him. In fact, he hadn’t even lied – he was just too much of a coward to have told the truth. His feet hit the dirty concrete of the narrow alleyway outside, and when he found his bearings he saw Heechul storming off.

 

He caught up to him, grabbed his hand and turned him roughly, pressing him against the wall. He wouldn’t look at him, refusing to meet his eyes. His mouth was pinched and his jaw was clenched tight. Hankyung grabbed his chin and tugged his face toward him roughly, but Heechul only stared blankly back at him, his eyes slowly swirling with chestnut brown. Hankyung loosened his grip and Heechul shrugged him off.

 

For all the years he’d watched Heechul walk away from him, it had never felt so painful.

\--

Kyuhyun made his way through the pressing throng of undead, the smell of them pungent in his nostrils. Flies crawled across his brow and beads of sweat dripped into his eyes; his shirt was drenched and glued to his skin. An ache spread through his chest, raw hot pain that left him gasping for breath. The undead walked in the opposite direction to him, and he felt their cold, dead eyes on him as he struggled to suppress his heavy, agonised breathing. Even the ones whose eyes were long rotted away still seemed to stare at him and the pain in his chest only grew worse with his anxiety.

 

Moments passed but to Kyuhyun they felt like hours, days. The van was in sight and all of a sudden he was running, his mouth open and saliva running down his chin. The petrol sloshed about in the jug and the soles of his shoes thumped loudly against the road. He could barely see the undead around him; they were a blur, a mess of screaming faces and muffled moans. The pain in his chest was loudest of all, throbbing and throbbing until he thought his chest would explode. It was his heart, he realised, but how could it cause him so much pain when it was dead and dry and broken?

 

He felt a hand on his shoulder, the buzzing of a fly in his ear, and when he looked at the hand he saw it was missing two fingers, the gaps where they used to be were mangled and grotesque all crusted with puss and blood and it pulled him back, a dead face leering at him over his shoulder. He heard himself scream, somewhere in the myriad of sounds howling in his ears.

 

He stumbled, fell, and the jug of petrol crashed beside him, the brown-black liquid oozing out thickly onto the ground beside him like congealed blood. He rolled over, panicking, and found himself gazing up at mangled faces and outstretched hands closing in around him. He felt a hand grip his arm, a firm, tight grasp, and he flinched, screamed, but he couldn’t fight it off no matter how he wriggled and before he knew it he was on his feet being pulled through the press of walking corpses. When he blinked away the haze that had fallen over his eyes he saw a man before him pulling him along, black haired and short. Alive. He pulled Kyuhyun into the van and they collapsed to the floor before the smaller man slammed the door behind them and got to his knees.

 

The door started to tremble as the undead pressed against it from outside, dead hands pounding on the small glass window. Sungmin was close, breathing almost as heavily as he was. He wanted to kiss him until he was even more breathless, but the pain in his chest grew more unbearable by the second. He gripped his shirt, clawed at the material, gasping. His skin was scalding to the touch and in his ears thrummed a deep, halting, thundering noise like a thousand drums and it felt as if his entire body was shaking, trembling to the beat. Sungmin was watching him, terrified. His mouth was moving but Kyuhyun couldn’t hear the words, the noise so loud in his ears he thought his eardrums would burst. Moments of agony passed like centuries until the pain became a dull blur, his body going into shock from the sheer agony. His skin felt like an inferno, the tears rolling as cold as ice over his inflamed cheeks. His senses had returned, though, his eyesight clear as crystal. His tongue was hot and heavy in his mouth and he licked his lips over and over again. His head was in Sungmin’s lap, he realised dimly, the smaller man’s fingers sliding softly through his matted and sweat soaked hair as he looked blankly at the door. How long had he been lying here like this? He drew in a breath to speak, and Sungmin looked at him as he whispered weary words.  
‘My heart,’ he paused, ‘It’s... It's beating.’

 

The door shook on its hinges, mouths pressed against the frosted, bloody glass. Kyuhyun trembled in his arms, and it was terrifying. He’d never seen Kyuhyun look so weak; he’d always been cold and stoic, the only time he’d smile would be at someone else’s expense. When Kyuhyun had whispered in that odd, frail voice, telling him his heart had started to beat, Sungmin’s must’ve stopped. Kyuhyun fell silent again after that, staring at the roof of the van with chocolate brown eyes all glazed and distant. Sungmin felt disconnected, as if none of this was real, and he could only stare numbly as the colour returned to Kyuhyun’s lips, to his cheeks. His eyes wandered slowly, taking in his whereabouts as if waking from a dream. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead, a quiet gasp from his lips. When Kyuhyun looked up at him Sungmin could only stare back dumbly, even as his face drew nearer and nearer, a hand pulling him closer. Kyuhyun’s lips were hot and insistent, different to the first time he’d tasted them. He threw his arms around Kyuhyun’s neck as the skinny teen got to his knees, pushed Sungmin down on the floor. He worked Sungmin’s mouth open with a nimble tongue, drawing soft moans from between his bow-shaped lips. How many times had he dreamed of this? How many times had he writhed silently beneath his sheets, one hand between his thighs and the other pressed tightly to his mouth so as not to wake Kyuhyun, sleeping so unknowingly in the bed beside him? The kiss they’d shared before was nothing, an act of desperation on Kyuhyun’s part, rushed touches in the panic and fear of imminent death. But this time Kyuhyun wanted him, truly, and he let him take him.

Bloody hands pounded on the door the lay beside and they kissed to the rhythm, Kyuhyun’s impatient hands slipping beneath Sungmin’s shirt, long fingers digging into his soft skin with bruising force. His lips were sore from Kyuhyun’s kisses but he wanted more than just touches. He let Kyuhyun nudge his legs apart, gasped at the sensation as he ground their hips together. They lay there in a mess on the floor, squirming and scratching and lost in the feel of each other’s bodies.

Kyuhyun’s kisses were hard, dark marks on Sungmin’s skin, and Sungmin tangled his fingers in his brittle, untamed hair, gasping as his tongue traced his collarbones, his teeth nipping at his soft flesh. Kyuhyun sat back on his heels as he pulled Sungmin’s shirt off roughly, and he stared down at him, at his sore, red lips and hardened nipples, his legs parted, willing and wanton. He smirked, then, unzipping Sungmin’s jeans and palming the stiffness in his boxers, revelling in Sungmin’s enthusiastic response. The smaller teen whined in frustration at Kyuhyun’s teasing touches and in moments he swapped their positions, a triumphant smile on his face at his small show of domination. Kyuhyun looked him up and down like a hot meal and Sungmin understood his impatience.

When he felt Kyuhyun cup his backside, he didn’t hesitate, unzipping the taller man’s jeans and biting his lip as Kyuhyun’s erection sprang free, unrestrained by his lack of underwear. A sharp hiss passed through his clenched teeth as the cool air kissed his bare skin, and his teeth clenched impossibly tighter when Sungmin took him into his mouth.

He was clumsy, sloppy, inexperienced, and Kyuhyun made his mouth ache with his shaking thrusts, his hips snapping up every few seconds even with Sungmin’s hands trying to push them back down. He barely lasted five minutes, and Sungmin felt tears prick his eyes as Kyuhyun pulled on his hair, as he released without warning in his mouth. He choked, got to his knees, swallowed the offensive fluid in a rush. He caught his breath, and Kyuhyun leaned against the kitchen counter boneless and satisfied. He felt wetness on his thighs and grimaced at the sensation; when had he climaxed? He hadn’t even felt it.

He lay back down, resting his head on Kyuhyun’s thigh. His mouth ached and he felt awkward and embarrassed, but his words tumbled out nonetheless. ‘I thought you’d all abandoned me. I was terrified.’ His lower lip trembled, tears blurring his eyes. Kyuhyun moved to comfort him, but he sat up, moved away. ‘It’s fine.’ He said. ‘You came ba-‘

Glass rained down over them, gnarled, blackened hands reaching for Sungmin, grasping him, yanking him towards the door. More hands pulled at his face, at his hair, his neck, scratching and tearing. Kyuhyun felt his heart leap, and before he knew what he was doing he had Sungmin in his arms again, and he crawled away with him, to the back of the small kitchen. He could see the hands from here; see the faces pressed against the windscreen. Sungmin’s face was a bloody mess, cuts and scratches all over his cheeks and forehead. His neck was torn to shreds. He left Sungmin a moment, crawled to grab the shirt that had been thrown astray, and he dabbed at his face, at his neck, gentle but insistent. When the blood was gone, the damage didn’t seem quite as bad, but that didn’t make it any better. Sungmin was staring at him, he realised, and when he met his gaze he asked, ‘Do I really look that terrible?’

His mouth ran dry. He touched Sungmin’s face with shaky hands.

A bang. Two bangs. His head turned towards the sound. The hands were gone, the faces on the windscreen just a mess of blood and pulp. The bangs continued - gunfire. The door flew open, and Kyuhyun shrunk away, but when Hankyung stepped through he relaxed. He’d never felt so relieved to see the two of them. Heechul spotted them before Hankyung, and his eyes went wide – wider than usual. ‘Is he okay?’

Kyuhyun shook his head. ‘He’s hurt.’

‘What happened?’ Asked Hankyung as Heechul knelt beside the two of them, pulling Kyuhyun’s hand away from Sungmin’s bloody cheek.

‘They got through, they scratched him.’

‘It’s deep.’

‘How do you know that?’ He growled. He saw Hankyung’s shoulders rise and fall in a shrug.

‘I just know.’

He opened his mouth to argue, but Sungmin interrupted him. ‘How did you manage to get back?’

Heechul smirked. He pulled his short sleeve back and flexed his skinny, unremarkable bicep. ‘I’m not as puny as I look. We fought our way through.’ He leaned closer to Sungmin and whispered teasingly, ‘And what were you two doing while we were gone?’ A moment passed before he added as an afterthought, ‘apart from nearly dying.’

He blushed crimson. The stinging in his face and neck was forgotten for a moment, his eyes darting from himself to Kyuhyun. He was still shirtless, and both of them had their jeans unzipped. He could still feel the sticky warmth on his thighs. He looked away, abashed. He couldn’t help but revel in the thought that Kyuhyun was back in his right mind, with a beating heart and warm lips and he wanted Sungmin as much as Sungmin wanted him.


	6. Chapter 6

May, 2018

The van screeched as they pulled away with haste, leaving the street of mangled corpses behind as fresh zombies started to stumble into view. He stared at Hankyung, saw the tension in his shoulders, and watched his Adams apple bob up and down as he swallowed thickly and nervously. He watched him and started to speak, a quiet voice breaking the silence, in a tone that gave way to no emotion.

‘Every time I touch you I end up tearing you to pieces.’ He saw his jaw clench tighter, his teeth grinding behind his lips. ‘And then I taste your blood and I go crazy. I lose control. More and more… I lose control.’ He didn’t look at Heechul. He continued to stare at the road ahead doggedly, and Heechul felt his blood pressure rising, his hands balling into fists. He flew at him; face inches away with rage ready to roar from his lungs. He wanted to choke him, punch him until he answered him, but before his words could pour from his snarling lips, Kyuhyun came rushing up to them, shouting at Hankyung to stop the van. The Chinese man looked back at him with irritation before returning his attention to the road. ‘Why should I stop? We’re not stopping again until the gas runs out-‘

Kyuhyun pushed past Hankyung, grabbing the wheel. The van swerved violently as Hankyung slammed his foot down on the brakes, making Heechul’s head slam against his window. They screeched to a halt, and Heechul could feel blood on his forehead. When the mist cleared from his eyes he saw Hankyung and Kyuhyun standing inches away from each other, a shared look of fury in their eyes. A vein in Hankyung’s neck stood out taught from his leathery skin. Kyuhyun looked like he had a fever, his jaw quivering as if it was an effort just to stand. Hankyung reached out, grabbing Kyuhyun by the shoulders and roughly shaking him, shouting in his face. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ he yelled, ‘Are you trying to get us killed?’

It was odd. Hankyung had always been so calm through everything, his rage made Heechul’s heart race. Kyuhyun swatted the taller man’s hands away as if they burned, gave him a look that could curdle milk. ‘We have to go back.’

The sudden announcement made Heechul stir. ‘Why?’

It was as if Kyuhyun only just noticed Heechul was there at all, and his harsh eyes softened only slightly when he turned to him. ‘There’s two people waiting for me out there – we need to help them.’

Hankyung scoffed. ‘So you’re willing to risk Sungmin’s life to save two strangers? We’re barely a block away from that horde, you’re insane.’ Kyuhyun’s lower lip jutted out like a child throwing a tantrum and he turned his back on them, stalking over to Sungmin with heavy steps. ‘I’ll go without you then.’ He stated stubbornly. ‘We’ll be fine on our own.’ He grabbed Sungmin’s hand roughly and pulled him to his feet. The boy seemed bewildered by the events taking place, his eyes darting from person to person before landing on Heechul, and he could only shake his head in response. He didn’t understand what was happening either. There was tension between these two men he just couldn’t fathom. It was rare that Kim Heechul was lost for words.

Kyuhyun’s hand touched the door, and Hankyung’s eyes bulged. ‘Don’t even think about it.’ Each word was said without emotion, a cold, hard warning. Heechul swallowed thickly.

Kyuhyun ignored his words, twisting the handle. A thin shaft of light spilled onto Kyuhyun’s figure. A click echoed in the small space, mechanical and terrifying. Kyuhyun’s face tightened as he turned to look at Hankyung. A double barrel shotgun looked back at him, trembling in Hankyung’s hands. ‘You do what you want,’ he growled, a spray of spit following his words, ‘but you leave Sungmin behind.’

‘Why do you want Sungmin?’ Kyuhyun asked, ‘What’s so special about him? How does he relate to your plans?’

Hankyung’s finger ghosted over the trigger, tension fell upon them. His lips quivered, desperate to respond, grasping the words he was having such trouble speaking. And then he said it, and Heechul felt dizzy and sick and terrified.

‘He’s the cure.’

-

April, 2018

No matter how tightly he squeezed his eyes shut, Jungsu couldn’t find sleep. He tossed and turned while Youngwoon snored away noisily beside him. It was the first time he’d slept on a real bed in nearly a month yet it could have been a pallet of straw for all the comfort he was feeling. He sighed into his pillow, rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He’d been so terrified just thinking of what he’d do if Youngwoon tried to make a move on him, but now here he was just longing for a kiss, a touch – anything to show he was still interested. How easily he became insecure, how fast the dark cloud of doubt could gather and thunder away inside his head.

He gasped and shuddered, shocked out of his negative thoughts by a cold hand on his hip, thick fingers dipping beneath his shirt. He felt the bed dip, Youngwoon’s body coming closer, and his hot breath whispering against his neck as he pressed wet kisses to his skin. He slipped his hand beneath the waistband of Jungsu’s boxers, smoothing over the soft skin of his thigh before cupping a buttock, Jungsu’s back arching at the contact.

The hand left his skin, Youngwoon dragging his back tight against his broad chest, his cock hard against his backside. He turned his face toward the bigger man, their lips locking in a deep, messy kiss. He rolled over, slung a leg over Youngwoon’s hip and wrapped his arms around his neck, kissing him deeper as Youngwoon’s hands roamed roughly over Jungsu’s buttocks, slowly pulling his boxers down, Jungsu kicking them off.

He pushed Youngwoon onto his back, straddling him and pulling off his shirt before getting rid of his own too. He leaned down for a kiss as he fondled the stiffness in Youngwoon's boxers, teasing yet impatient, before freeing it and pressing it to his own and stroking them both together until they were fully erect and leaking, his hand slickening with precum. Youngwoon groaned, teeth clenched, eyes feral with desire as the moonlight hit his face and Jungsu felt his heart race, pounding in his ears. In seconds he was flipped onto his back, Youngwoon’s lips hard against his neck and chest, leaving bruising kisses in his wake, breaths heavy and fast.

There was a pause in the excitement, their heavy breaths the only sound in the darkness, and when Jungsu opened his eyes he saw Youngwoon towering over him, a silhouette in the darkness. He felt Youngwoon's fingers against his lower lip, and he locked eyes with him, sucking them into his mouth and sliding his tongue around the digits, watching Youngwoon's expression of utter veneration. Youngwoon withdrew his fingers, a soft pop sounding in the silence between them, and Youngwoon ran the digits down Jungsu's chest, circling a pert nipple briefly and drawing a gasp from Jungsu's red lips. He was emboldened by Jungsu's strong reactions, his hand dipping between Jungsu's buttocks, circling his hole and making his hips jump at the sensation. 

When he'd picture this moment in his head, he'd always turned his head away in embarrassment, always imagining the embarrassment of being watched, of being in such a vulnerable, somehow demeaning position. Now that it was happening, though, he found he couldn't look away, watching Youngwoon with half lidded eyes as he stretched him slowly, knees trembling as his hole quivered with stimulation. His grip on Youngwoon's biceps must have been painful, but Youngwoon didn't show any sign of discomfort, opening Jungsu with slow, methodical dedication. 

After a while Jungsu couldn't bear the soft touches any longer, rolling his hips against Youngwoon's fingers and gasping as he fucked himself down onto them again and again. Youngwoon watched for a moment, drinking in the sight before he got the hint. Jungsu spat into his own palm quickly before taking Youngwoon's cock in his strong grip, pumping him steadily until he was slick and stiff, Youngwoon watching him with short breaths and unrestrained lust.

When Jungsu let Youngwoon go, he pulled his knees close to his chest, thoughts of embarrassment or shame seeming so far away to him now. Youngwoon pressed himself to Jungsu's wet, stretched hole and his eyes opened wide, his mouth going dry. Youngwoon thrust inside him in one hard stroke, a strangled noise in the back of his throat as he bottomed out, and Jungsu shouted at the sudden fullness, the burning stretch as he clenched and unclenched around Youngwoon reflexively.

Youngwoon whispered aplogies into his hair, his skin damp with sweat, and Jungsu could only tremble against the senation, chasing the pleasure at the base of his spine as he relaxed around Youngwoon's hardness. He felt strong hands stroking his hair away from his forehead, and he met Youngwoon's eyes steadily, whispering, 'Move.'

-

When he awoke it was to an empty bed, a cold room and an ache in his lower back. His flesh was covered with goose bumps and he rushed to dress. He stood before the wardrobe mirror, regarding his dishevelled reflection, his fingers ghosting gently over the sensitive, sore bruises on his hips and forearms, the love bites on his neck and his swollen lips. He dressed quickly, feeling suddenly sheepish as he reflected on his obscene, lewd actions. He wondered what Youngwoon thought of him, if he was disgusted by Jungsu's desperation.

He walked downstairs stiffly, picturing all the ways Youngwoon could turn him away, but Youngwoon wasn’t around. He nervously padded further into the living room, the cold laminate floor freezing against his bare feet, and he jumped at the sound of something falling, an exclamation of pain following a moment later. When he turned to the noise he saw the door beneath the stairs was propped open and Youngwoon emerged, rubbing his head and cursing under his breath. When he saw Jungsu, his face reddened. He avoided his eyes, stuttered. ‘There’s a cellar,’ he mumbled, ‘if we’re quiet we could hole up here for a while.’

Jungsu nodded, folding his arms and shifting from foot to foot awkwardly. They stood there in silence for a moment, neither of them making eye contact, before Youngwoon cleared his throat.

Jungsu passed by him before he could speak, desperately wanting to avoid any kind of conversation about that night. Dipping his head as he entered the small room, he glanced around exaggeratedly, ‘Is there a light switch?’ He asked, peering into the darkness of the cellar, his foot on the first step.

‘There’s no electricity.’

‘Oh, I forgot. Candles?’

They descended in an orange glow, barely seeing two steps ahead of them. He held the candle before him, his other hand grasping at the damp wall for balance. The narrow steps ended abruptly, a foul stench of damp and rot assaulting their nostrils. As he walked further into the darkness he heard Youngwoon’s footsteps close behind, lighting up more of the space. Soon his eyes adjusted, a wide space appearing before him, blackened crevices in the walls from damp, towering shelves of wine lining the walls.

A single wrought iron bedframe sat sullenly in the corner of the room, a thin mattress sagging on top of it, a dark stain covering the material. He heard the sound of dripping water, a puddle beneath the mattress. Blood. His eyes followed the dark drops as they lead away across the floor toward a door he hadn’t noticed. He felt dread rise within him, the candle flickering slightly as his hands started to tremble, hot wax dripping onto his skin. A plank of wood was propped against the door handle, bloody prints smeared across the walls to either side. He heard Youngwoon take a breath, and he gave him a hard look, his finger pressed stiffly to his lips.

He saw confusion pass over the bigger man’s face before he came closer, eyes widening as he came to grips with the situation. Jungsu pointed to the door, whispering. ‘There’s someone in there - or at least, something.’

The taller man nodded, mouth open. ‘What should we do?’

‘Kill them.’

Youngwoon looked at him as if he was insane. A second passed, another, before he spoke. ‘What if they’re alive?’ He asked, exasperated. Hearing something so harsh coming from Jungsu’s lips must’ve shook him up. Jungsu wasn't such a fragile person that he couldn't assess a life or death situation rationally, and Youngwoon's underestimation made his hackles rise slightly.

‘Look at the blood – the mattress. It’s almost fresh. If they’re still alive they’re most likely infected. And if not, then I doubt they’ll be happy to see us barging into their safe house.’ He paused. ‘It’s a matter of kill or be killed.’

Youngwoon swallowed thickly, ‘How will we do it?’

‘Take the plank of wood. When I open the door, you bring it down on anything the tries to escape.’

Youngwoon licked his lips. He looked at the door. His mouth ran dry.

Click, click, it rattled all of a sudden, the handle twitching faster and faster. The plank of wood shook as the door trembled, and he wondered if this was some terrible nightmare. Suddenly everything seemed surreal; a cold sweat broke out over his body. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

While Youngwoon felt the beginnings of a panic attack, Jungsu felt cool, calm clarity. He walked to the door, stood beside it. Youngwoon hesitated for a moment before standing on the other side, reluctantly reaching for the wood as Jungsu pushed his weight against the door. He looked at Youngwoon and Youngwoon looked back, the plank of wood raised above and behind his head like a baseball bat in mid-swing. Jungsu stepped away from the door and felt the breath leave him as it opened, slamming into him with a force that sent him crashing painfully into the wall. He hit his head, blinking back stars.

When he opened his eyes he was on the floor, wetness against his face and the smell of copper in his nose. He sat up, coughing. As his vision cleared, he saw a red pool around him, blood on his hands. Youngwoon stood above him, the wood in his hands snapped and dripping. For a moment he thought Youngwoon had attacked him, but then he saw her. A frail, sickening thing. At Youngwoon’s feet lay a young girl, eyes rolled back to reveal the whites, veins thick and blue across her forehead and neck. Her fingers were gone, just bloody stumps from where she’d scratched and scraped at the door in her hunger, her terror. He heard a thud and jumped as the plank fell from Youngwoon’s hands. His chest rose and fell, shuddering with every harsh breath.

‘She was dead from the start.’ He reassured him, but Youngwoon couldn’t pull his eyes away from the mess of a child that lay at his feet. He stood there, mute, eyes wide with horror. His sweatshirt was bloody, and Jungsu opened the girl’s mouth instinctively, checking for skin or blood. ‘Were you bitten?’ He asked, dread building in him. Youngwoon’s eyes had glazed over with shock, and Jungsu stood, slapped him back to reality. ‘Were you bitten?’

Youngwoon shook his head dumbly, looking at Jungsu like a frightened child. ‘Good.’ He said softly, running a hand comfortingly down Youngwoon's arm and squeezing his bicep before turning back to the room the girl had erupted from. 

He didn't see Youngwoon pull his sleeve down, covering the tiny mark on his forearm where a tooth had scratched the skin.

\------

May, 2018

He heard his heart thrumming in his ears as loud as a drum as silence resonated between the four of them. He watched Kyuhyun’s face warp from anger to confusion, saw his rage crumble to despair. He could see that Kyuhyun wanted to leave – that he was going to leave no matter what – but there was reluctance in his eyes now, a look on his face of a man with the fate of the world on his shoulders. If he took Sungmin and ran right now, he’d be taking humanities last hope. He frowned, his eyes downcast. ‘Why should that make us stay?’

‘Sungmin could restore humanity-‘

His eyes met Hankyung’s with harsh intensity, his mouth twisting with his words, each syllable uttered with venom. ‘I don’t care about humanity. Neither do you.’ Heechul looked at Hankyung, watched him blink rapidly, his eyes darting between him and Kyuhyun nervously. ‘You want Sungmin for your own reasons.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ Hankyung asked numbly. Heechul could tell he knew exactly what Kyuhyun meant.

‘Heechul doesn’t have long left, right?’ He saw Heechul’s eyes widen, Hankyung’s hands balling into tight fists. He laughed without humour, shook his head in disbelief. ‘You haven’t even told him that yet?’

In truth, he’d known it all along. He just didn’t want to believe it. How could he not have known? It was obvious. It was just too terrifying to accept. He felt his stomach twist as a weight settled in his chest. He bit his lip. They were silent, and he could feel anxious eyes on him, eyes of pity and eyes of guilt. Tension passed between the four of them like electricity, and Sungmin’s voice broke the spell with soft, quiet words. ‘Shouldn’t I have a say in this?’

Kyuhyun frowned at him, an almost wounded expression on his face. ‘You’ll die if you stay here.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘As soon as he’s done with you he’ll take Heechul and run. He doesn’t care what happens to you,’ He looked at Hankyung with palpable hatred, ‘you’re just a tool to him.’

Sungmin was still reluctant. Heechul supposed he felt a great weight on his shoulders now, being as Heechul’s own life was depending on whether he stayed or not. ‘You’re assuming things – we should all just calm do-‘

‘We have to go!’ Kyuhyun barked, his hand pushing the handle down. The door clicked, and Hankyung cocked the shotgun, eyes wide and jaw clenched. His hands trembled, a bead of sweat rolling down his neck. ‘Get away from the door Kyuhyun.’

‘You won’t shoot.’ Light flooded the van, and Hankyung’s index finger twitched at the trigger. An ear-shattering bang made Heechul gasp, a bullet ripping through his throat as he shoved Hankyung away. He felt blood fill his mouth, hot and metallic, and as his vision blurred he saw Kyuhyun and Sungmin flee. Was he on the floor? He felt heavy. Hankyung knelt beside him, the gun out of sight. He was crying. Heechul felt his lips twitch, a soft, small smile before Hankyung disappeared into a thick treacle-like darkness.

-

His hands shook, his lips quivered. Heechul’s body was limp in his arms, a dead weight in his lap as he pressed him close to his chest and rocked back and forth on the floor, sobbing into his hair. His shirt was wet with blood, sticking to his skin, and Heechul’s hair was matted as it clung to his red face and neck. What had he done? All he was trying to do was save him, but somehow he’d ended up doing the exact opposite.

Minutes passed as he sat there, trembling, rocking, and whispering apologies into Heechul’s deaf ears. Had he got it wrong? He thought he’d heal, that if he waited long enough his eyes would open and he’d gasp for air and things would be right again, but he was growing colder by the second. He loosened his grip on Heechul’s body, felt him slacken in his arms, his head lolling to the side.

The wound was terrible, a huge chunk of flesh torn from his neck. When he looked closer, he noticed something was wrong. He could see bone beneath the blood and tissue and muscle, and something else, the broken shards of a bullet strewn about inside, jammed into his windpipe. He started to sweat as the reality hit him hard like a sharp slap in the face – if the bullet was stuck, Heechul wouldn’t heal. He had to take it out, and he had to do it fast.

He carried Heechul into the computer room and lay him on the flat, sunken mattress. He turned the room upside down in search for something thin he could get the shards out with, something tweezer-like, but he found nothing. Desperate, he rushed about in the kitchen, returning with a pair of chopsticks. It wasn’t an ideal tool, but it was all he had. They were thick, and he knew he’d severely damage the tissue surrounding Heechul’s upper spine and probably disrupt some of his muscle too, but if he did it right then maybe Heechul would heal even that.

He had to try – and he had to try fast, before his pulse faded completely. It was terribly dark in here, and he rummaged around behind his mattress in his gun bag, pulling out a torch and flicking the switch before shoving it in his mouth, the light shining onto Heechul’s face. He turned his face to the side, and his hands trembled slightly as he picked up his chopsticks, pulled the frayed skin away from the wound. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves. If he did this wrong, Heechul would die. He’d be alone.

It was a miracle that Heechul didn’t get blown apart completely, the bullet hitting him at an odd angle and breaking apart on impact instead of ripping through muscle and flesh and bone. Tears stung his eyes, and he delved inside.

-

The shards of the shotgun round lay in a red patch on the flat yellowed pillow beside Heechul’s head. His lips were paler than their usual rich red and his open eyes were rheumy and distant. Hankyung lay beside him, his fingers running through Heechul’s blood-matted hair.

'Please, please wake up.' He didn't want to be alone, not again.

His heart jumped when Heechul’s lips quivered slightly. A choked noise erupted from his throat before his body jolted and blood gushed from his wound and his mouth, running down his chin. His eyes rolled back before looking left, then right, before focusing on Hankyung’s face dizzily. He could see the pain and confusion in Heechul’s eyes before his eyelids closed heavily and he fell into a deep, healing sleep. Hankyung felt a cold, hard guilt settle in his chest, a weight on his shoulders as he dwelt in the knowledge that he’d made Heechul die two deaths. He lay there beside him for a while, two fingers pressed to the pulse in his neck, feeling it grow stronger and stronger; but he knew Heechul had lost too much blood. There were no hospitals anymore, and if there were, they wouldn’t be able to help Heechul anyway. Only he could save him, only his blood.

He knew Heechul would hate him for what he was about to do, but it was either that or watch him die and know that he could’ve prevented it. He took brisk steps into the kitchen, returning with a knife, and kneeling over Heechul’s body, he held his wrist above his mouth. He sliced a deep cut into his wrist and gently pulled apart his lips, letting the blood drip between his teeth, onto his tongue, down his throat. At first he choked, but his body quickly responded to the taste, and he started to swallow hungrily. It was mesmerising, and Hankyung didn’t even notice his vision beginning to blur, blacken. He collapsed on the pillow beside Heechul, his wrist still against Heechul’s mouth even as his own skin started to heal.

-

They fled hastily as the gunshot echoed in their ears. They ran and ran until they couldn’t breathe and they stopped, their hands on their knees as they gasped for air. Sungmin took the short breather to ask where they were going. ‘I found two guys at the gas station when I was getting petrol,’ Kyuhyun replied, ‘I told them I’d go back for them.’

Sungmin smirked, ‘When did you start caring about other people?’ he mocked, and Kyuhyun scoffed, shoved him playfully. He started to run again, and Sungmin felt himself laugh, as if a weight had been lifted from his chest, and he jogged after Kyuhyun.

They reached the gas station, but as they approached, Kyuhyun seemed hesitant. ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Sungmin, and Kyuhyun sighed.

‘I told them to go somewhere safe.’

‘And where would that be?’

They heard a car beep behind them, and when they turned towards the noise Sungmin saw a chubby face pressed against the passenger window of a range rover, a pair of hands waving frantically at them. He looked at Kyuhyun in time to see his face light up in a way he’d never seen before, and it took him back a bit. He smiled at Sungmin, and grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the car with almost childish glee.

They slid into the plush leather seats, slamming the door behind them, and the chubby faced boy peered at Sungmin from behind his seat, curious and friendly. He’d never been in such a luxurious car before, even with the blood spatter on the windows and the foul stench rising from the boot it was miles better than his Ford Escort. The car sped into motion, and the driver called back to them asking where they should drive to. His voice was high, cheerful, and he had an accent. ‘Just go anywhere, as far away from here as you can.’ Kyuhyun replied. He looked at Sungmin and gestured to the boy in the passenger seat. ‘This is Henry, and that’s Zhoumi.’ The driver turned to give Sungmin a quick smile before turning back again, a large nose and a big smile that made Sungmin feel comfortable instantly. Henry reached his hand out, and Sungmin shook it with a smile. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. ‘And this is Sungmin.’

‘Where are the rest of your friends?’ asked Henry. He reminded Sungmin of some small animal, a chinchilla or a gerbil or something.

‘I’ll explain everything once we’ve caught our breath.’ Kyuhyun said, leaning back into his seat and stretching his long legs. He closed his eyes, and he seemed to relax visibly. A few minutes passed before his breathing evened out and he fell asleep. When Sungmin drew his eyes away from Kyuhyun’s peaceful face, he saw Henry was still staring at him.

‘Is there any music to put on?’ Sungmin asked, ‘I know the radio isn’t up to much any more but there might be some CD’s’

Henry rummaged around in the dashboard for a moment before sighing. ‘It’s all trot.’

‘It’ll do.’

He pushed the disk in and Sungmin felt warmth in his chest at the sound of music. When was the last time he’d heard music? Before he knew it he was singing along, word for word. He didn’t notice Kyuhyun open his eyes to watch him, or the small smile that tugged at his lips as he did.

-

May, 2018

They decided to leave the cellar as it was, too dirty and horrific to be lived in. They'd set up camp upstairs, candle wax all over the furniture from long nights of candles being left to burn, forgotten as they lost themselves in eachothers arms. As the weeks passed, Jungsu often thought about how they should have formulated a plan from the moment they stepped into the house. They'd been so distracted by eachother that moving on had become secondary, living off the supplies hoarded in the cellar and spending every waking moment taking whatever pleasure they could from eachother.

At the start, anyway. As time ticked by, things changed. The joy Jungsu had felt at having his feelings returned, of having Youngwoon wrapped around him every night, quickly turned to dust. Youngwoon grew colder and colder, the attention Jungsu had always craved turning into something he desperately tried to avoid. Youngwoon was rough with him when they made love, ignoring his pleas for gentle touches, his cries of pain. It became something he dreaded, and he found himself distancing himself from Youngwoon whenever he could, spending hours doing monotonous checks on the house late into the hours of the night when Youngwoon was likely to want his body.

His appetite began to wane. A fever broke out over his skin and burned its way through his chest, making him bedbound for almost a week. Youngwoon wouldn't leave his side, his blank stare watching him every second he was awake or asleep. He was a prisoner in Youngwoon's care.

When the strength had barely returned to him, he was so desperate to get away that he appealed to Youngwoon, assuring him he was well enough to be up and about again, and he could have cried with relief when he was finally allowed out of his sight. Youngwoon left the house to scout the area, get some fresh air, and Jungsu took the chance to have some time alone. Even the bathroom wasn't a sanctuary for him when Youngwoon was there, the younger man insisting he needed constant surveillance incase he slipped or fainted in his weak state.

The sound of his retching echoed in the bathroom as he hunched over the sink. Wiping his mouth he straightened, looking at his reflection in the mirror as a stranger stared back. His eyes were red rimmed and sunken, cheekbones standing out under his pallid skin. More than a month had passed since he and Youngwoon had first made love, and Youngwoon’s apologies came less and less frequently now, his rough touches becoming the norm. He padded over to the bath with muscles sore and stiff from lack of exercise, and he turned the taps, watched the bath fill. His ribcage stood out from his chest, a lack of appetite making his weight drop drastically in a matter of weeks. He'd always been thin, but this was on another level. His reflection made him feel sick, and he covered the mirror with a towel.

He supposed it was for the best that he didn’t eat much; there wasn’t a lot of food to go around anyway. He lowered his aching body into the icy bath and watched it fill more and more until it reached his neck, his lips, and he slid beneath the water. The sound of the water rumbled in his ears, and as the urge to breath overwhelmed him he grabbed the sides of the bath, forcing himself to stay under. His legs thrashed as his body desperately fought for breath, his lungs filling with water with every futile gasp. Moments passed, and his struggle became weaker and weaker, he felt a thrilling numbness rise from his toes to his fingertips as sparks appeared behind his eyelids, and he felt peaceful for the first time in months.

Suddenly he felt strong hands on his arms, cold air rushing against his face, and he choked hard as oxygen forced its way into his burning, saturated lungs. Youngwoon pulled him against his chest, hands running through his wet hair frantically. When he opened his sore eyes and saw Youngwoon staring back, he wondered if this torture would ever end, if he’d ever see another persons face again.

-

June 2018

Night fell abruptly as they drove, and the car was filled with noise as they all sang along to the awful trot cd’s that were stuffed into the dashboard. The song ended, and Sungmin smiled. ‘In another life we could’ve been a band.’

Kyuhyun laughed. ‘Henry would have to play an instrument then.’ They all laughed, and Henry looked over his shoulder at Kyuhyun in mock offense.

‘We should probably think about stopping somewhere for the night, maybe find somewhere to sleep.’ Zhoumi suggested, tapping his fingers on the wheel.

‘We can just sleep in the car,’ said Kyuhyun with a shrug. ‘Where did you find this thing anyway? And more importantly, how did you get it started without any keys?’ He asked, leaning forward and regarding the mess of wires hanging out behind the wheel.

Zhoumi laughed nervously. ‘That's for me to know and you to hopefully never find out. Staying in the car sounds safer; I just thought you and Sungmin might want your privacy.’

Kyuhyun sat back as his face reddened and he turned to look out of the window. Sungmin smiled, confused. ‘What do you mean by that?’

The Chinese man smiled brightly, looking at Sungmin in the rear-view mirror. ‘Nothing. We should probably take it in turns to sleep, though. Anything could happen to us if we all sleep at the same time.’

‘Sungmin and I will get in the front while you two get some rest,’ Kyuhyun said, ‘After what just happened, I don’t think we’ll sleep well tonight anyway.'

Soon a soft harmony of snores filled the back of the car. They were parked on a country road, and Sungmin rolled the window down to breathe the fresh country air. They sat in silence, enjoying the relief of being away from the drama that seemed to surround Hankyung and Heechul, basking in the knowledge that they were miles away from that nightmare. A moth drifted in through the window and fluttered around the light built into the roof of the car before settling on Sungmin’s hand. He smiled and lifted his hand towards Kyuhyun. ‘Look.’ He said softly, but the look on Kyuhyun’s face when he did wasn’t what he’d been expecting. The teen flinched away with horror, waving his arms around pathetically as he gasped like a fish out of water. Sungmin couldn’t hold his laughter at the sight of Kyuhyun so utterly terrified of something so small. ‘You’re scared of moths?’ he asked patronisingly as it flew away.

‘I hate things that fly at me, I choked on a moth once – it’s trauma.’ He mumbled, flustered.

He smiled and turned away from Kyuhyun, looking out at the moonlit fields stretching before him and he spoke wistfully, ‘I wish I could fly. I’d fly away from here; I’d fly to another planet, a parallel universe where things were the same as before - before this… mess.’ He sighed. ‘And I wouldn’t have to spend every waking moment terrified of what would happen next.’

Kyuhyun looked at him as he spoke, saddened by his words, and silently he vowed to take him away from this place, this apocalypse. He’d find somewhere safe, find freedom, no matter how long it took.

'I can relate to that.'

Sungmin shook his head softly. 'I just keep seeing the blood. I've never seen someone get shot, I'm probably still in shock.' He took a breath, hesitant to ask the question that had been playing on his mind since they'd fled the van. 'Do you think Heechul is okay?'

Kyuhyun didn't know how to answer – there was nothing reassuring he could say. 'I have no idea. We just have to keep moving on.'

'For how long? Will we ever stop moving on?' Sungmin's voice began to sound desperate. His eyes were wide, full of fear and weariness. 'I miss my parents, my friends... everyone's dead.'

'You don't know that-'

'I'm not stupid, Kyuhyun. It's a fact and I've accepted it.' His voice wavered slowly. 'It just hurts so much. So much has changed so fast and I just don't know if I can keep up any more...'

'You can.' Kyuhyun stated with conviction. 'I'm not going anywhere. Especially not without you.'

Sungmin was taken aback by the earnestness in his words, his honest, open expression. Only now did he take in just how much Kyuhyun's face had changed since that afternoon, since he'd returned to life. His eyes were glimmering, his skin full of colour. He'd always been handsome, but now it only showed more, now that Sungmin had seen the alternative. He smiled softly, feeling his chest tighten with emotion.

He may have lost everything, his family and his best friend, but at the very least he had just one last person to love.

They didn't speak after that, simply enjoying the silence and safety of the countryside, the odd security they felt within that car. Neither of them quite noticed when their hands ended up entwined between the seats, thumbs caressing knuckles softly, hearts pumping to the same rhythm.

-

June 2018

Hankyung felt like a lead weight, and his eyes burned as he struggled to open them. He saw Heechul sat beside him, his head in his hands. Relief flooded through him, and he moved to touch his shoulder, but Heechul flinched away, turned towards him with eyes like a wild animal. Dried blood coated his neck and the side of his face, smeared over his lips, but the gunshot wound was gone. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Heechul asked through gritted teeth. Hankyung couldn’t even find the words to reply before Heechul spoke again. He had a feeling Heechul hadn’t wanted an answer in the first place. ‘I knew something was happening to me but it never clicked. I knew you were lying the whole time, that everything was a lie. The way I feel about you is a lie. I may have felt a small attraction to you before I was taken away, but what I felt afterwards was different entirely. It was like a hunger, an awful, overpowering need to be near you. And you knew how I was acting was wrong but you chose to ignore it, you took advantage of me instead.’

‘I never took advantage of you.’ Hankyung sat up, hurt by Heechul’s assumptions. ‘I thought your feelings were genuine.’

Heechul shook his head. ‘It must have been great. How long have you been lusting over me without me so much as glancing in your direction? Then all of a sudden here I am, following your every command without hesitation. You had me monopolized, chasing you like a dog in heat.’ His voice turned venomous, quiet as he hissed. ‘And I’m not even lucky enough to die, am I? I have to turn into one of those things. It’s odd, I recall you pointing your shotgun at Kyuhyun, but I shoved you. I heard the shot go off, and there was pain, but everything after that is just blank. When I woke up I had the taste of blood in my mouth and blood all over my neck. It’s almost as if you shot me, but if that was the case, where’s the wound?’ He paused, and Hankyung remained silent. ‘I saw the blood on your wrist, but there’s no cut there. You fed me didn’t you?’

‘I had to, you would’ve die-‘

‘And whose choice is it whether I die or not?’

Hankyung grabbed Heechul by his shoulders, suddenly furious at his selfish words. ‘How can you say something so selfish after I saved your life?’

‘You’re the one who took it in the first place, weren’t you?’ He shouted. ‘I’m not talking about when you shot me. I was dead the moment you let me bite you.’

Hankyung shook his head with frustration. ‘No. If you hadn’t have fed, you would’ve turned even faster. They changed your genetics, without feeding you’d only be hungrier and weaker and you’d be in agonising pain without my flesh. You shouldn’t be angry at me, you should be angry at them. All I’m trying to do is help you, when it was them who made you this way. What do you want me to do?’

Heechul was silent, then. Hankyung stood abruptly and stormed out of the room, the curtain swaying behind him. He sat in the driver’s seat and revved up the engine, the tires screeching as he pulled away with haste. He was going to get revenge, whether he had the cure or not.

-

He let the scalding hot water burn his skin as he pressed his forehead against the shower tiles, watching the water turn pink with blood, swirling away down the plug hole. He closed his eyes tightly and gritted his teeth before tilting his head back and head-butting the tiles once, twice, three times. He brought his hands up to his head, pulled his fingers through his hair in frustration. His bangs brushed against his cheeks wetly, and he swept them back, taking note that he needed to cut his hair again. He let a short sigh slip from between his teeth and his hands fell back down to his sides as he stood there, the water running down his body as if it could wash away the anxiety and confusion and absolute terror he felt inside.

Guilt sat heavy on his shoulders after the harsh words he’d spat at Hankyung, but beyond the guilt a strong feeling of resentment still lingered. He knew Hankyung had been trying to protect him, or at least he wanted to believe it was the truth, but it hurt all the same. It was all so much to bear and he felt the overwhelming urge to cry. He felt it well up inside of him, his stomach twisting and his throat closing up but he fought the sensation. He wouldn’t cry. He brought a shuddering fist crashing into the tiles, a sharp jolt of pain shooting up his arm before a dull ache settled into his knuckles, and he stood there, his chest rising and falling as he caught a plump lip between his teeth. As his fist slid down the wet ceramic, he told himself it was only water running down his cheeks.

Stepping out of the shower, he threw a towel over his head and dried his hair briskly, but when the towel fell he wasn’t prepared to see his reflection. He’d seen himself only a few hours ago, but now he seemed even worse. His milky skin wasn’t milky any more, so pale it seemed almost transparent. He looked like a skeleton, not an ounce of flesh on him, and his lips were pale pink and thin, his eyes red-rimmed and sunken. When was the last time he’d eaten? It must’ve been more than four days ago. He hadn’t had any appetite for a while. He walked backwards until he felt his back touch the door, and he slid to the floor, pulling his knees to his bare chest and resting his head between them.

Were his feelings for Hankyung as real as they felt, or were they truly only a chemical reaction implanted in his mind by these psychopaths that had made him into this monster in the first place? He hadn’t even known of Hankyung’s existence until they met abruptly in that mall, but the Chinese man had been practically stalking him since he started college. But even so, there’d been a spark there, even back then, before his mind and body had been tampered with. He’d felt a genuine longing for Hankyung, a warm, safe feeling overcoming him whenever he was near. When Hankyung was around, it was like everything would be okay in the end.

He dug his nails into the skin of his knees. It was just so hard to express his emotions; every time he tried he just ended up getting upset in the end, and all the feelings, the love and the frustration and confusion, would all turn to rage. He always pushed people away when they got too close. He’d only even felt comfortable being himself around Jungsu, but they were childhood friends. With Hankyung he’d felt comfortable instantly, there was no judgement in those big brown eyes, just a soft look of warmth and understanding. He didn’t feel the impulse to shield himself, to put on his sharp, eccentric façade when Hankyung with him – and it made everything harder. He was a tangled, knotted ball of raw emotion, and he didn’t know how to release himself from the constant tension in his muscles, the stress and the fear.

He lifted his head from where it rested between his knees and let it fall back against the door. He brought his fingers to touch his neck, the spot where the shotgun wound should have been. The skin was still tight and puckered, and he let his hand fall again. He wondered why he risked himself without a second of thought to save Sungmin and Kyuhyun. Was it for his sake, or theirs? Because Sungmin could’ve been his only hope, his cure – but he let him go. Was it to save their love story or his own? At least without them hanging around he and Hankyung could be alone, they could sort out this mess together, and maybe they could find Jungsu if he was still alive out there somewhere. And if he died - if he ended up turning into one of those things - maybe it wouldn’t be so awful to die in Hankyung’s arms, with Hankyung’s gun to his head. Maybe he’d feel Hankyung’s lips against his own and a cold bullet before he lost his last shred of humanity. When he thought about it, it wasn’t too bad a deal.

-

June, 2018

The candles made the room glow yellow, the matress dipping as Youngwoon sat down beside him. He could feel Youngwoon’s eyes on his face, hear him taking short breaths as if he wanted to speak, but the words never left his mouth. A warm hand swept his fringe back, and he lifted his head to look at Youngwoon, the man suddenly closer than before.

When Youngwoon lifted his hand to touch Jungsu's face, he jolted away from his caress.

‘What's wrong with you?’ He asked, frustrated. Jungsu didn’t speak. ‘Are you going to talk to me or not? We’ll be here for a while. We have all the time in the world.’

Jungsu only shifted away more, and Youngwoon huffed with impatience, moving to touch him again. As Jungsu flinched away once more, his patience wore out and he grabbed him bodily, catching Jungsu’s face in his hand and forcing him to face him. There was terror gleaming in his eyes as he cringed in Youngwoon’s grip, and it angered the bigger man that he, a man, could act so pathetic, so frightened when he’d only gotten a little carried away with him the night before. It irritated him that he was acting like some fragile woman, and he felt his frustrations hit their boiling point as he struck him hard across the cheek. Jungsu let out a sharp gasp, his hand moving to press against his rapidly reddening face. He looked at Youngwoon with utter venom in his eyes.

Youngwoon leaned closer, the spit flying as he shouted into Jungsu’s face. ‘You’re a man aren’t you?’ He shook him roughly. ‘Aren’t you?’ He shoved him and grabbed his arms, pushing him down onto the mattress aggressively, and he breathed against his neck words that made Jungsu want to cry. ‘If you’re going to act like a woman, then I might as well use you like one.’

He struggled as Youngwoon started to tug at his shirt, pushing him away fruitlessly before Youngwoon grabbed his hands, pinned them above his head, and he planted a hard, angry kiss on his bruised lips. Something he’d once craved so much now revolted him, he wanted to be sick. He twisted his face an inch and bit down on hard on Youngwoon’s bottom lip, eliciting a cry from the bigger man, and as his grip loosened, he twisted a hand free and swung at him, his knuckles cracking as they collided with Youngwoon’s jaw.

In the blink of an eye he was flipped over, his face pushed into the mattress, Youngwoon pinning his arms behind his back as he pulled his jeans down roughly, impatiently. He hardly took a breath before he felt cold fingers prodding at his backside, excruciating pain filling his entirety as Youngwoon stretched him furiously, without care or consideration.

He could hear himself screaming, Youngwoon grunting, panting, but it was muffled, far away. He knew he was in agony, but he felt numb. Thoughts filled his head as if in a daydream, and he remembered that this was Youngwoon – the Youngwoon that would use him as a punching bag when he was blind drunk and then deny the whole thing once he was sober. The Youngwoon that beat his best friend half to death for being gay. But something kept nagging at him, a voice he wanted to listen to. It told him that this was the Youngwoon that had told him he loved him, that kissed him under the stars as the lights of Seoul dimmed to black. The Youngwoon that grabbed his hand when the helicopter came for them. The Youngwoon who, not too long ago, would make love to him slowly, would hold him as he slept like something precious.

As tears stung his eyes in what seemed like some far away nightmare, he wondered if that Youngwoon was still in there somewhere – inside this monster.

-

Youngwoon lay in the darkness, Jungsu’s skin beneath his fingertips. He knew there’d be marks there in a thousand shades of purple and blue by the morning. His chest rose and fell beneath his touch and it was mesmerising, hypnotic. He desired this man so much that it hurt, but with every touch of his skin he turned into a monster, a cruel, shameless shade of the man that was Youngwoon. The first time was an accident; he'd been tired, too lazy to prepare Jungsu properly, mistaking Jungsu's grunts of pain for moans of pleasure. The second time was different, though. He hadn’t wanted to hurt Jungsu, but something made him snap, some rage rising in him that he couldn't name, the need to devour and consume everything Jungsu had to offer him. Now he found he couldn’t stop. He only wanted to hold Jungsu, to kiss him, to touch his skin but each time he’d crush him and bite him and bruise him. Each time was followed by guilt, and each time it became harder to apologise, to meet his eyes.

Jungsu hated him; he could see it in his eyes, in the way he shrunk away whenever Youngwoon came close. Eyes that once looked at him with quiet affection were now clouded with distrust and pain.

He scratched his forearm where the child’s tooth had scraped his skin, bruising instantly. Nearly three weeks later his arm was a rotten purple colour right to the elbow, always burning, itching tingling. The pain kept him sane, though. Pain meant he wasn’t dead yet. When he felt nothing… that’s when he’d need to tell Jungsu. His fingers were stiff, and if he touched his skin he could feel his veins standing taught, all along his arms and his neck. Every day they crept further down his body, bulging from his skin as if they could burst at any moment, and every day they crept closer to his heart. Even the veins on his brow were swollen and strained, but it seemed that Jungsu hadn’t noticed yet. He didn’t even look at him any more. When Youngwoon came close, he closed his eyes.

Maybe it was better this way. If Jungsu truly hated him, he wouldn’t have to bear the guilt or regret or heartache when he had to kill Youngwoon in the end; when his flesh started to decay and his heart stopped. Maybe if he hated him he’d be able to move on, to escape and find somewhere safe, find a cure, find the others.

He breathed a shaky breath against Jungsu’s neck. His skin felt cool beneath his fingers, while his own felt unbearably hot. Sweat clung to his brow and he kicked the sheets off his stiff legs. He rolled off the mattress, his body as heavy as a lead weight, and he crawled to the bathroom feverishly, pressing his face against the cool tiles, savouring the refreshment on his clammy skin. The darkness seemed to pulse and swirl, colours emerging before his glassy eyes and he felt hot drool run from his mouth onto the cold porcelain. He felt dizzy, sick, as if he’d been on too many fairground rides, but his nausea faded in seconds, the tingling in his arm replaced by a blissful nothingness, as if there was no arm there at all. He felt his eyelids close against his will, and as he fell asleep there he didn’t notice the words slipping from his slack, trembling, dry mouth.

‘I’m sorry 'Su.’ He whispered. ‘I’m so sorry.’


	7. Chapter 7

June

He drove on and on, miles flashing by as the petrol rapidly diminished. His eyes were sore and tired and the road before him blurred in and out of focus. A nagging voice insisted from the back of his mind that he should stop, that he should rest, but there was a desperation eating away at his heart. He needed to find the bastards that did this to him, to Heechul. First he’d find them, and then he’d kill them. His hands gripped the wheel so tightly that his skin was sore, and he swallowed a lump in his throat as he thought of the terrible things he’d done just to get this far. He’d been so desperate to save Heechul that he’d ended up pointing a gun at someone. He’d been so wrapped up in his own intricate plans that he’d pulled the trigger. His determination to save this man had almost killed him in the process.

Why did it have to be like this? Why did the world have to turn to shit, throwing the love of his life into his readily accepting arms only to try and tear him away from him at every opportunity? How he wished things were different, that that helicopter had been their ticket to safety, to a place free from this plague, this madness.

The words Heechul had spat at him with venom only an hour earlier had eaten at his heart. Did he really only lust for his flesh? Was Hankyung nothing to him? They were so close, cooped up in this van for nearly two weeks, yet they’d only touched twice, made love twice – and both times he’d killed Heechul a tiny bit more. He wanted to hold him, kiss him, taste him in his entirety, but if he did he’d only make Heechul's hunger worse and accelerate his condition further.

He felt tears build and spill over, tumbling down his cheeks as the reality of the situation hit him, that Heechul was really going to die – no, his mind was going to die. He was going to become one of those soulless things, and when that happened, he’d have to kill him. The man he’d been longing for, lusting over for nearly four years; his life was in his hands and now that he finally had him in his grasp he was slipping away like sand falling from between his fingers. The tears poured, his vision clouded, and he let his grip slacken, his hands falling to his sides and his foot slipping from the brake. His head fell back and he let sheer despair overtake him completely. Maybe it was better to die like this than with Heechul in his arms, a bullet in his head and a gun in his hand. He didn’t open his eyes as the van sped away, hitting a barrier and flipping, tumbling and crashing into the woodland on the side of the road. It swayed and shook before settling on its side, Hankyung pressed against the window with the wheel jammed hard into his ribs and a smear of blood on the glass.

-

Heechul blinked as water splashed against his face. The sink was above him, a fountain pouring down upon his from a burst pipe. He was completely disorientated, why was everything upside down? When had he passed out? He tried to stand up, but he wasn’t on the floor. His back was pressed against the door like he was lying on it. He reached for the handle and regretted it immediately as he tweaked it and slid out suddenly, hitting his head on a kitchen cabinet. He cursed and got to his knees. Why was the van on its side? What had happened? He got to his feet, crouching in the small space between wall and kitchen cupboards as he made his way to the driver’s seat. He was still buck naked from his shower, but the thought of covering himself never even crossed his mind. He grabbed onto a seat and leaned over, feeling his heart skip a beat and sheer dread fill him from head to toe. He saw Hankyung lying against the window, the glass cracked where his head was thrown against it. There was blood in his hair, on the glass, on his forehead, and Heechul panicked. He fumbled to unbuckle Hankyung and struggled to find a good place to crouch. He moved to touch Hankyung’s head but somewhere in the back of his mind he could sense Jungsu shaking his head in disapproval.

He could imagine him being there, fussing over Hankyung's injuries and lecturing everyone in the area on the correct procedure to carry out in a situation like this. Heechul decided it was better the leave him where he was, just in case he made it all worse. He took a breath, pressed two fingers to Hankyung’s neck, and he exhaled sharply at the beat of a pulse. ‘Hankyung,’ he called, ‘Hankyung!’ He slapped his face as gently as he could, and he stirred abruptly, squinting up at Heechul blearily. His eyes are red and sore-looking, as if he’d been crying, but the impact of the crash didn’t seem to have harmed him in any visible way apart from a deep gash on his forehead. ‘What on Earth happened?’

‘I must have fallen asleep. Why are we upside down?’

‘Why were you crying?’

‘I wasn’t.’ Hankyung lied, trying to sit up. In a split second Heechul’s lips were pressed to his own, kissing him deeply, desperately. They fell back against the door, Hankyung’s head pressed against the window again as Heechul climbed on top of him, straddling him. Their tongues tied and Heechul knew this wasn’t some fake instinct planted inside him, this was real, a lust, a need. Maybe even love. He felt Hankyung’s hands on his buttocks and he knew this time he wouldn’t feed, that he could fight it. This time it was Heechul Hankyung would be making love to, not the animal within him.

-

July

 

The days shot by, each one blending into the next as the miles passed; the distance between them and the two they’d left behind growing further every minute. They brainstormed to pass the time, thinking of where to go, where to eat. They spoke in hushed tones about what to do when they ran out of gas - which would be soon - and what on Earth they were going to do if nobody saved them.

Henry was insistent that someone would come eventually, they just had to wait. Zhoumi and Kyuhyun were more doubtful, and Sungmin would only shrug before turning to stare thoughtfully out at the passing trees. Kyuhyun had watched Sungmin’s joy slowly ebb away to mere cinders. Over the past few days he’d seen nothing but boredom in his eyes and it seemed as if conversation had grown too dull for him to bear. He understood, though – they all did.

They’d been cooped up in this car for nearly a week; they all smelt foul and there were less and less things to converse about, not to mention everyone was quickly tiring of speaking. There was simply nothing more to talk about. Zhoumi and Henry would babble away in Chinese sometimes, but it was only noise to Kyuhyun. He could sometimes pick out words he understood here and there, but they spoke too quickly. Sometimes Sungmin spoke, but most of the time he didn’t. Once in a while he’d catch him looking at him and they’d both look away awkwardly, clearing their throats and striking a meaningless conversation with one of the Chinese men.

It wasn’t as if anything had happened between them to make things awkward, it was just that neither of them knew what to say. It was easier to listen to Henry laughing and Zhoumi chattering, to stare at the rolling hills passing them by. It had grown on them, crept up on them after the first few days. They both knew what was on the others mind, what they'd done. It hadn't seemed so bad at first, they were fighting for themselves, for how they felt for each other... but what about how Hankyung had felt towards Heechul? Wouldn't Kyuhyun have done the same to protect Sungmin? What if Hankyung had been against Kyuhyun joining them in the beginning, back when he was merely a shadow of a human being – wouldn't Sungmin have fought tooth and nail to save his humanity? The weight of their abandonment was becoming intolerable.

Kyuhyun straightened in his seat, pushing his guilt to the back of his mind. They didn't have time to regret things any more. Instead, he focused on the view outside the window. Rolling hills were all he could see for miles. They should have been heading for a port; surely the land should have been flattening out? He squinted hard out of the window, but there was no sea in sight – only hills and slopes. Were they even anywhere near Seoul any more? They couldn’t be. He leaned in to the middle of the car, trying to see between Zhoumi and Henry. They were driving up a steep country road, narrow and bumpy. ‘Where are we going?’ he asked them, and Henry jumped at the sound of his voice. The chubby faced boy turned and smiled, offering him some bottled water. He thanked him, taking it from his hands and uncapping it before Zhoumi spoke up. ‘Well at first I was just driving anywhere, but I started thinking about the safest place we could go,’ he told him, ‘and I thought the most logical thing to do would be to drive to the nearest port, right?’

Kyuhyun nodded, confused as to what Zhoumi was trying to explain to him. ‘Then why are we not heading to a port? Why are we going into the mountains?’

‘I was getting to that part!’ he grinned widely at Kyuhyun in the rear-view mirror. Henry ate a cereal bar noisily, tearing it apart as if it was the last thing he’d ever eat. ‘I thought, if the port was the most logical place to go, then obviously a ton of people would have probably flocked there. Do you understand what I’m getting at yet?’

‘A higher chance of an outbreak…’ Sungmin surmised, his sudden input making Kyuhyun look at him reflexively. Sungmin caught his gaze and sharply turned to stare back out of the window.

‘Correct!’ chimed Zhoumi, with Henry raising his hands in a mock celebratory fashion. Kyuhyun found them to be a curious pair, the way they were so in sync. ‘Well, it’s just a guess. I just thought we’d be better off if we headed somewhere where the population wasn’t so dense, but somewhere we can still find food and water – a small village maybe. Who knows, maybe the disease didn’t spread this far?’

It was a naïve thought, but it warmed Kyuhyun’s heart all the same. It was hard to be disheartened by anything Zhoumi said.

The car bumped along on the raggedy path they drove on, the hum of the engine being the only soundtrack to their journey. They’d ran out of CD’s to listen to, and after a few days of playing the same trot songs on repeat they’d quickly found comfort in absolute silence. Kyuhyun’s eyes flickered between the back of Henry’s seat and Sungmin’s profile, and he tentatively reached his hand across the seat, silently offering him the water bottle. The smaller man didn’t seem to notice the gesture, and he gently tapped his thigh, making him jump. ‘Are you thirsty?’ he asked. Sungmin nodded softly. Their fingers touched when he took the bottle, and when Sungmin turned away again, Kyuhyun wished he’d held his attention, captured his hand in his own.

The tension between them was palpable and Kyuhyun was desperate to address it. Was he over-thinking it? Maybe it was only he who felt this discomfort. He watched Sungmin raise the bottle to his lips, his adams apple bobbing as he swallowed, and he felt himself swallow deeply in response. He was still a young, healthy man. Being so close to someone he desired to greatly was as tempting as tasting a forbidden fruit. He’d touched Sungmin’s skin, his lips had been against his own more than once, but still he had yet to truly touch him in the way he longed to.

He shrunk back against the supple leather of the seat as his jeans tightened, and he pulled his jacket into his lap to hide his arousal. Leaning his head back against the headrest he groaned quietly, frustrated to an uncomfortable extent. He’d never bothered with sex much – he’d rather play games. If he went to a party it wasn’t hard to find somebody willing to let him relieve his tension, as rare as that was – but this was something completely alien to him. Did Sungmin even want to go that far? He’d seemed eager enough when they’d tumbled around in the van, but that was over in a flash and they hadn’t spoken a word about it since. In fact, they hadn’t spoken a word about anything.

He sighed and closed his eyes. He’d wait until it was their shift to drive, until Henry and Zhoumi were asleep. He’d confront him then. At the very least, he’d kiss him. That’d be good enough.

-

June

When Jungsu opened his eyes, he opened them to darkness. He lay there still and silent, only the sound of his own breathing filling the utter quiet of the room he lay in. It was odd not to hear Youngwoon’s deep, rumbling snores beside him. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the darkness bit by bit. Rolling onto his back he reached slowly, softly, for Youngwoon’s body, only to find cold sheets. In the dim light he could see that the duvet was thrown back, and as his eyes glanced to the edge of the bed he saw a figure, dark and looming, motionless as it stood. ‘Youngwoon?’ he whispered. He tensed beneath the sheets, his tired mind jumping into action as his heart started to race. How ironic it was that all this time he’d been wishing Youngwoon was gone, but now his only instinct was to call for him, scream for him to come and save him from this threat. He edged away, his body tense and strung tight as a bow.

And then it moved, this sinister silhouette. It crouched, and the sound of a match striking was followed by a burst of light, a warm glow illuminating Youngwoon’s face. He stood, a candle lit on the floor, and Jungsu didn’t know whether to feel relief or dread. Something was wrong with Youngwoon’s face. The usually wide, manly face seemed thinner, more drawn and sallow. Veins encroached on his forehead and his short hair was wet, as was his brow and neck, all shimmering in the dim light. Jungsu faked a sigh of relief, forced a small, tight smile. ‘You scared me.’ He uttered softly. ‘What’s wrong? Can’t you sleep?’

Youngwoon shook his head slowly, stiffly. His eyes seemed far away, even as he stared at Jungsu with an unsettling intensity. He sank down to sit on the bed with a softness, a delicacy that was unlike Youngwoon. When he leaned towards Jungsu he shrank away on instinct, closing his eyes tightly and waiting for rough hands to cup his chin, for dry, chapped lips to be pushed against his own. He waited for pain, but it never came. Opening his eyes slowly, fearing some trap would be awaiting him, he was confused to see Youngwoon a few inches away, sad eyes staring back at him. It was disorientating to see such an expression; the only emotion Youngwoon had expressed since they came to this place was anger, desire, but here he saw something he hadn’t seen in nigh a month or more. Hurt, love, maybe even regret.

Youngwoon brought his hand to Jungsu’s face, pausing as he flinched, and he looked at Jungsu for a moment, almost as if he was asking for permission. He found himself nodding softly, and the gentle caress of Youngwoon’s fingers on his skin was like some new, alien sensation. His fingers were cold.

He brought his own hand to Youngwoon’s, and as his face edged closer he let his eyes close, felt a lump form in his throat. Youngwoon’s lips touched his own, and he kissed him back, trembling. His head fell back against the flat, sweat-stained pillow as Youngwoon deepened the kiss, and as his lips trailed down his neck like a moth fluttering against his tortured skin he let his head loll to the side, his lip caught between his teeth as tears spilled from his raw, red eyes.

He was like a ghost, lips icy cold and fingers trailing along his skin like feathers, every breath a shout, every gasp a scream in the sacred silence between them. He sobbed softly into the pillow as Youngwoon’s fingers traced the dip of his hipbones, along his purpled skin, bruised from lust-driven embraces. A soft gasp escaped his parted lips as the larger man whispered apologies against his collarbones; apologies he knew he would never forgive.

Every touch felt like it would be the last, every kiss laced with finality. After all the terrible things Youngwoon had done to his body, it still responded timidly, his nipples pink and hard and his member twitching to stand. A hot tongue traced his nipples, so sudden it made him gasp sharply, and his back arched violently as rough, calloused hands stroked him to hardness. He didn’t want to respond, to feel anything, not after what he’d done to him; but his body thought differently, even as sickness roiled in his stomach and his heart trembled with fear; fear that he might stop hating this terrible man for even a moment.

His abdomen rose and fell as he panted, cheeks flushed as he hid his face in the pillow, overwhelmed by shame and defeat. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, it was supposed to hurt, so much he wanted to scream. It wasn’t supposed to feel good. It had been so long since the last time it had felt good, felt right. His knuckles were white as his fists twisted in the sheets, silent screams falling from his pleasure-slackened mouth.

Youngwoon’s lips were pressed to his ear, and as his toes curled all he could hear was his voice filled with grief, repeating the same thing over and over like a prayer. ‘I’m so sorry.’

He felt Youngwoon pressing against his entrance, one finger, and two. It was slow, torturous. His fingers tangled in Youngwoon’s short hair, the other hand clutching at his neck, scraping against his skin. When Youngwoon entered him he felt only pleasure, overwhelmingly so. Every thrust was slow, deep. His knees were hiked around Youngwoon’s hips, his feet locked together as he pushed him deeper with clenched teeth and his name on his tongue. He spent himself and whispered words of love he didn’t mean to say, and when Youngwoon came inside him he felt bile rise in his throat. They lay beside each other, both staring up at the damp ceiling, blackened with creeping mould. He pulled the sheets around his naked, soiled body as Youngwoon lay exposed, and his head ached with confusion, thousands of thoughts pressing against his bloated skull.

Youngwoon’s cold hand slid into his own, and he looked at them both entwined. How long had it been since he’d really looked at Youngwoon? How long had he looked this way? His hand was a sickly shade of purple, the skin of his arm blackened to the elbow as bulbous veins sprawled upwards to his shoulder and across his chest, creeping up his neck and stretching all down his body. He felt his own body turn cool, a sudden understanding forming in his mind. ‘She bit you,’ he whispered, ‘that girl, she bit you.’

‘Kill me.’

He wanted to laugh at the audacity of it. How could he ask Jungsu for a swift death after the torture he’d been forced to endure all this time? How could he ask Jungsu to kill the only man he could love even after he’d been treated so terribly? ‘I can’t.’

‘Please.’

‘I can’t. You've hurt me more than words can express, but I can’t kill you.’

‘You have to.’ Youngwoon squeezed his hand. When Jungsu looked at him he saw he was crying. ‘I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have.’

‘What gives you the right to decide when you should die? What makes you think you can rape me, make me feel utterly disgusting, and then just die? Just like that, no pain or suffering or punishment for what you’ve done. What makes you think you deserve something so easy?’ Jungsu sat up, tears stinging his eyes. ‘Even after everything you did to me I never once wished you were dead. Death would be too good a fate.’

‘Do you hate me that much?’

‘That’s the worst part. I want to, I desperately want to, but I still can’t hate you.’

Youngwoon’s hand was stiff in Jungsu’s, a block of ice wrapped in skin. ‘You never had it in you to hate.’ A soft smile flickered across Youngwoon’s lips for a second, but it was gone in an instant. ‘If you still love me, kill me. Make sure I never wake up. Burn me, then you escape – you just run and run as far as you can until you’re safe.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Find the others; maybe Heechul is still alive, maybe you can find a boat and sail away. Just don’t die.’

The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed in the room as Jungsu slapped Youngwoon’s face, his eyes red rimmed and his face a mess of tears; a look of sheer agony stretched across his handsome features. ‘Don’t tell me to kill you and then forbid me from following you.’ He cried. ‘How could I survive on my own? There’s nothing out there but death, why can’t I save myself the trouble?’

Youngwoon reached for Jungsu, and he leaned closer. He brushed his fingers against his reddened cheeks and wiped away his tears with a thumb. ‘Please.’

-

June

The van was wrecked. The monitor room was smashed to pieces, metal and glass was strewn everywhere and wires hung down from the walls. Heechul had expected Hankyung to be devastated, all his hard work destroyed, but he didn’t seem fazed at all. Hankyung’s skin was hot, and as he looked at where his hand lay on the Chinese man’s chest, he realised just how pale his own skin had grown. He closed his eyes, breathed in his scent as his chest rose and fell beneath him. Even as he lay there listening to his steady heartbeat all he could think of was how uncomfortable he must feel, having Heechul’s icy, bony body slumped over him, having to look at his pale, bruised skin. He gasped softly as hands, soft as supple leather, cupped one of his buttocks, slid up his back and dipped between his shoulder blades before resting in his hair, stroking his damp locks.

‘We need to get moving’ he whispered, his chest rumbling against Heechul’s ear, and Heechul nodded in acknowledgement. He didn’t want to leave the warm safety of Hankyung’s arms, but they were vulnerable now, out here in the open. There was no time for embraces and moments of passion, not any more.

When they stumbled from the van, their clothes sodden and dishevelled, they just stood there for a moment, staring at the wreckage. Hankyung had salvaged his guns, all wet from the burst pipes, and the bag containing them was slung over his shoulder. He felt a cold hand pushing against his own, and he looked at Heechul as their fingers entwined, his big brown eyes staring straight ahead, brighter than he’d seen in days, and for a moment he started to hope – maybe there was a future here.

They walked the road until the stars came out, until Heechul’s bare feet were raw and red, the torn skin not having sufficient time to heal. He wouldn’t wear Hankyung’s boots no matter how often he offered. He told him it didn’t hurt, but it did, and it comforted him. Pain, pleasure, happiness, sadness – it all meant he was still alive. The night was warm, humid and sticky. Clouds hid the stars above them, and soon they were drenched to the bone, thunder boiling in the sky. Still, they didn’t stop. He wondered if Hankyung was hungry, if he was thirsty. The Chinese man never seemed to complain about such things, and Heechul could only wonder whether it was from discipline or whether he was so engrossed in looking after Heechul that he’d completely forgotten his own needs.

The cries of seagulls resonated as they walked, the sky turning the colour of a blood bruise as the sun disappeared below the horizon. Every now and then a squirrel or a rabbit would scamper out onto the highway, glance at them before continuing into the foliage that grew beyond the steel barrier that lined the road. He wondered if they even noticed what had happened to the world.

They came to a slope, and they sat for a moment on the muddy, wet grass at the side of the highway. It was cool on Heechul’s aching feet, and soon he felt Hankyung slump against him as sleep finally overtook him. Soft breaths blew softly against his neck, and he watched blankly as plumes of smoke twisted up into the cloudy sky from buildings burning far off into the distance, the abandoned skyscrapers of Seoul. He sighed, yawned.

Standing slowly he placed the gun bag beneath Hankyung’s head as his body slumped to the ground. Taking a gun for safe measure he made his way down the slope into the wooded area below. Even though there was nobody around, it still felt necessary to find privacy when it came to relieving his bladder.

As he stood against a tree, he couldn’t ignore the sound of rustling growing louder. He could hear breathing, fast and ragged. Twigs snapped and leaves crunched, and he turned to face the sound. He was alone, only him and the trees to be seen. Maybe he was just paranoid. He finished his business, and as he turned to traverse the slope once more he checked the clip in his pistol, making sure it was loaded. Something wasn’t right.

The slope was steep; the ground muddy from the previous night’s rain, and the going was tough. He saw the barrier before him, and Hankyung was snoring softly from where he lay beside it. He felt himself smile as a warm feeling filled his chest, but it was replaced with a sinking terror, as if his stomach had dropped onto the ground. A cold hand gripped his leg, nails digging into the denim of his tattered jeans and he yelled in surprise as he was pulled down the slope, landing wetly on his backside. He clawed at the wet grass but he couldn’t find purchase, and he gasped in horror as a haggard, decaying face came close to his, virulent breath stinging his nostrils. Gagging, his fingers twitched at the pistol trapped behind his back. He writhed and kicked but the body on top of him was too heavy.

Chipped teeth edged ever closer to his face, and he sucked in a breath. Gathering his strength, he pushed the corpse off him an inch, his hand sliding free. He pressed the gun to the corpses head in one fluid motion, and his eyes closed reflexively as grey matter hit his face, its brains exploding from its head with a bang so loud it made his teeth come crashing together. The zombie slumped against him, dead weight forcing the air from his lungs. He was weak from malnourishment, and he fought to no avail, writhing beneath the mound of rotting flesh.

In a blissful moment the weight was gone, and sweet oxygen filled his lungs. He opened his eyes to see Hankyung looming over him, a look of relief on his face. He was saying something, but all he could hear was a sharp ringing in his ears.

Hankyung pulled him to his feet and came close, speaking clearer. ‘We have to go.’ He said with urgency, ‘something must’ve heard that. We’ll be surrounded soon.’

Heechul nodded, the scent of death still lingering on his skin, and he wiped at his dirty face with his shirt, grimacing when the gore refused to leave his hair. They took the guns and fled through the wood, the smell of death following close behind.

-

July

Sungmin let his head fall against the cold glass of the passenger window, closing his eyes as the driver door shut and the car rumbled to life. He wondered if they’d talk tonight. As the days had passed they’d had less and less to say to each other. Now, finally, there seemed to be nothing left to talk about. The only interaction he’d had with Kyuhyun the past few days had been glances and meaningless mutterings, grumblings about wanting a shower and how bad the car smelt. His hair was greasy and his stubble was quickly turning into something more than a 5 o’clock shadow. They all looked to be in the same state of disarray, though, yet he and Kyuhyun seemed to be the only two in the car that cared. Henry and Zhoumi were endlessly cheerful, and it agitated him slightly. Where did they get the energy? He longed to stretch his legs, to sleep in a real bed.

He cleared his throat. It was slightly sore, and he absent-mindedly wondered whether he was growing ill. ‘Can we stop the car for a moment, I’m cramping up.’

The car slowed slightly, and Kyuhyun’s dry voice rumbled beside him. ‘Yeah, me too.’

It was humid and sticky outside the car and gnats flew at them as soon as they opened their doors, but it felt good to stand on the ground for a while; to stretch his wasted muscles. He’d never enjoyed road trips.

He sat on the car bonnet, and Kyuhyun joined him after rummaging around in the boot. He handed him a can of warm soda, but when it met his lips it could have come straight from a refrigerator for all he cared. He scratched at his skin from where a bug had bitten him, turning his attention to his feet as they swung a few inches from the ground. There was no wind, and soon a thin film of sweat covered his brow. ‘I wonder if Zhoumi has the right idea.’ He mused aloud, and Kyuhyun seemed startled when the words left his mouth, dispersing the uncomfortable quiet that had slowly thickened between them.

‘I think he made a good decision. It’s what I would’ve done.’ He assured him. When he turned to look at Kyuhyun, he saw him smiling back.

‘I still can’t believe everything that’s happened to us. It feels like a bad dream.’

‘Me neither. But we’re safe now, I suppose. Besides, how can it be a bad dream if I’m here?’

‘That’s exactly why.’ He added sarcastically, laughing softly before sipping from his drink. He played with the ring-pull and looked at the sky. ‘It’s been a while since we left Hankyung and Heechul, hasn’t it? I wonder if they’re okay.’

Kyuhyun took a pause before replying in a defensive tone. ‘Why should we care if they’re okay? Hankyung tried to shoot us.’

‘Wouldn’t you do the same?’ Sungmin asked sharply, and by the look on Kyuhyun’s face it seemed like he knew he'd ask that exact question. He reddened. ‘I mean, Heechul is dying. Hankyung was just trying to protect him… you’d do the same if…’ he quietened slightly, ending in a mumble. ‘…if it was me, wouldn’t you?’

He met Kyuhyun’s eyes awkwardly, and saw them widen before he looked away, the tendons in his long neck growing taught.

‘We never talked about what happened before they came back… when we were in the van-‘

‘Did you hate it?’ Kyuhyun interjected, and he sounded almost nervous.

‘No.’ Sungmin caught the metal of the ring pull between his teeth and let his words become muffled when he spoke. ‘I didn’t want it to stop.’

He heard Kyuhyun take a breath while he held his own, and soon he felt long fingers on his skin, cupping his jaw and pulling his face closer. His head collided with the car bonnet as his body slid further down, Kyuhyun’s lips against his own, and his hand pulling at his knotted hair. Kyuhyun rolled on top of him, his knee pressing between his thighs and he gasped. He opened his eyes for a second, barely catching the smirk that passed over Kyuhyun’s lips before they were against his own again, hot and insistent.

A moan struggled to escape his throat, his erection trapped by his jeans. God, he wanted Kyuhyun inside him, so much he couldn't find the words to articulate it. Instead, he spread his legs wider, arching upwards with every kiss. He caught one of Kyuhyun's hands as they journeyed beneath his shirt and pressed it against the hardness in his jeans, watching the taller man's eyes cloud with arousal.

A wolf whistle made his heart stop in his chest, and they straightened awkwardly, jumping off the bonnet and grimacing at the two Chinese men laughing hysterically from the back seat. 'Keep going, guys,' laughed Zhoumi, 'this is as close as we'll get to television for a good long while.' Henry didn't seem to understand the situation but smiled along nonetheless.

Embarrassment flooded him, but the hilarity of the situation quickly overtook the emotion, and at the sound of Kyuhyun’s restrained chuckles he simply broke down, hiding his red face in his hands as laughter shook him.

Even when half the world was dead you just couldn’t get any privacy.

-

June

As they fled through the woods the smell of death began to mix with something sulphuric, the smell of burning. They continuously had to stop as twigs and debris stabbed at Heechul's sore, bare feet. Eventually, as the sound of branches snapping only a few feet behind them grew more and more insistent, Hankyung had to carry him on his back. When they finally lost the group of undead that had been attracted to the gunshot, Heechul had fallen asleep. Hankyung lay him against a fallen tree trunk, taking the short moment of safety to rest. Running his fingers through Heechul’s tangled hair as he slept, still damp from his shower, he sighed. It wouldn’t be long now; there wasn’t much time left. He knew Heechul was trying to hide his fatigue, his hunger, but it was evident in the limpness of his limbs; the way his arms swung so loosely at his sides when he walked, how he swayed every now and then. He had a slight fever, and Hankyung tore a strip of material from his shirt, dabbing at his wet brow, his upper lip.

He’d never believed in any God, never felt the need to ask for help from a higher being, but in this moment he felt the sudden urge to pray.

-

Jungsu’s arms felt like lead, and his lungs ached from sobbing. He strove for air as he pulled Youngwoon’s dead-weight down the stairs. They’d argued and argued until Youngwoon had lost the energy to fight. Eventually he'd lay his head in Jungsu’s lap, and Jungsu had run his fingers through his hair until he'd fallen asleep. The way in which he gathered his things was almost mechanical, numbly checking his supplies. He’d checked the house for car keys and found the households family car parked outside. When he’d readied the vehicle, it finally hit him. Youngwoon wouldn’t be coming with him this time. Youngwoon wouldn’t be waking up – not as the same Youngwoon, at least.

Returning to the bedroom and looking upon his slumped form where it lay still tangled in bedsheets with his messy hair, he’d tried to make himself believe he really had just fallen asleep, that he’d stir any moment and frown at him and ask him why he was staring. No longer how long he waited he didn’t move. There was no rise and fall of his chest, not a single snore. The tears didn’t come until he was halfway down the stairs and his back was protesting from the weight of the man in his arms. He dragged his body across the living room floor, scattered paper collecting beneath him.

When he was outside he simply stood over Youngwoon’s body and cried until he couldn’t cry any more. From then on, it was a numb blur. He was utterly spent, spiralling into a deeper misery than he thought possible. His body moved without conscious decision as he gathered flammables, found a box of matches.

The smell was terrible, but he found himself frozen to the spot. The smoke would attract unwanted guests, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave. It was hot against his face as he stood there, mesmerised. He just couldn't bring himself to toss Youngwoon's body into the flames. In his mind it was all he could see; visions of Youngwoon's flesh blackened and burnt, sloughing off the bone. He'd see Youngwoon’s eyes open in the haze of smoke, but then his eyes would be gone, trickling down what would have been his face.

He was still there by nightfall, even as the fire was dwindling to cinders. A soft red glow was cast on his devastated face. He was so utterly lost in his misery that he didn’t notice the soft whisper of the grass, the heavy breathing behind him. He jumped as a hand was laid upon his shoulder, a firm grip shaking him from his numbness, and he looked up in a horrified stupor to find himself staring into the eyes of a familiar face.

‘Hankyung?'


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (breathily whispers 'C&D') It's Mertlekang, with the fanfiction, we're back!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: sorry for the confusion! i've pushed all the chapters into eachother to make less, it was getting really confusing for me and there were just WAY too many chapters, so now they're all just longer. Thanks for sticking with me guys - i can't be thankful enough. Suju are so different to the way they were when I first started writing this - Hankyung was still there! thats how long ago i started writing this thing! I feel a bit odd writing Kyumin now that Sungmin is married, feels disrespectful in a way but alas he won't be reading this trash so I guess we're OK!
> 
> Also made some changes to Jungsu&Youngwoon's story in the previous two chapters!

_July_

They reeked like rotten meat, cooped up together for almost a week, driving endlessly and aimlessly into the dark. They smelt so bad that they couldn't even smell it anymore, that the air occassionally fluttering through the half-open windows smelt odd and made them lightheaded. Hyukjae couldn't recall the last time he'd tasted the fresh minty sting of too much toothpaste, or the sensation of cold water dripping down his sweat-soaked back. It had been Donghae's idea to head for the mountains - if all else failed, surely there'd be some wildlife to hunt and some natural springs to gather water and bathe in relative safety.

The air here was clearer, too fresh for their stuffy lungs. Everything seemed untouched by the horror of Seoul, and at one point, through the haze of a daydream, Donghae had exclaimed suddenly that he swore he'd caught sight of a farmer swinging a cane as he strolled through a steep patch of farmland. Hyukjae hadn't denied it outright, he couldn't crush Donghae's excitement like that, but he didn't believe it. They were clinging to a false, fraying thread of hope now, to hope for humanity here would be foolish. But as the car climbed further and further into the mountains, Hyukjae's conviction started to waver. His eyes were red-rimmed from lack of sleep and sometimes he'd startle as he noticed the car swaying during a sudden bout of drowsiness, his whole body exhausted to the bone and his lips cracked from dehydration. He knew it was impossible, that his health was deteriorating and causing him to hallucinate, but sometime's he'd see things too. Sometimes his eyes would wander to the forest to his side, and he'd swear he'd catch sight of people carrying baskets, of children running through the trees. Figments of his imagination, nothing more. To hope would bring nothing but disappointment.

But in the end, what they came upon couldn't be reasoned away as an hallucination or a fantasy, it was real, before their eyes. The forests and hillsides dropped away until they were on a well-swept dirt road, traditional houses rising up into the hills before them. People. People everywhere, villiagers, young and elderly, going about their daily lives. The markets were open and people were carrying baskets of fruit and vegetables, as if nothing was wrong. As if the country hadn't been reduced to ash and smoke, as if humans weren't feasting on the flesh of their kin.

They didn't look at eachother or say a word, stepping from the car in shock and looking at the scene before them with slack mouths. How could this be real?

'Hyuk-'

'-I know.'

A door to their left shut with a slam, and they both jumped at the sudden noise, breaking them from their moment of dumbstruck awe. An Ajumma appeared from within, noticing them with a crinkly smile as she tottered towards them eagerly. She took Donghae's hand with trembling, rough hands and patted it reverently, looking up at him with unabashed joy.

'Ah, it's been so long since we had tourists! We were wondering what on Earth had happened, people just don't seem to be visiting anymore, and the trains aren't running-' Her accent was thick and hard to understand, and she paused, gasping as her scrunched up eyes widened minutely. She cupped Donghae's cheeks abruptly, making him let out a quiet squeak in surprise. The height difference meant she had to stand on her tiptoes. '-Look at you! So thin! So pale! Come with me,' she caught sight of Hyukjae properly as she bustled past the car, Donghae's thin wrist firmly in her strong grip, 'And you! What on Earth has happened in the city, sending you boys here in this state! I won't stand for it, I won't!'

She hobbled furiously to the other side of the street, and the scene caused a few mildly curious stares from the few passersby. All Hyukjae could do was share a mute, awestruck glance with Donghae before he was tugged along too, into a nearby house. Once inside, the old lady didn't relent her grip until she'd ushered them into the sitting room and flailed her hands wildly, indicating they should sit. 'Unbelievable, the second time in just a few months!' She muttered and she bustled around the room, 'Another young man came up not too long ago, covered in filth! Said he climbed the railroad track all the way up the mountain! Poor boy was covered in blood and God knows what else. Sit, Sit! You boys look like you haven't eaten well in months, I won't stand for it.' She finally left the room, muttering as she went.

As soon as their knees touched the cool, comfortable floor, they slumped against eachother, letting out a deep, chesty sigh in unison. It was too much to take in. The house smelt like nuts and spices and old wood, and Hyukjae was suddenly struck with embarrassment at the state they were both in, a longing for a shower stirring in him. He felt Donghae's shoulder trembling against his, and turned to him expecting tears, only to find him laughing softly.

'What's funny?' He asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow.

'I feel like I've just woken up from a ridiculous dream. One of those where it seems so bad while you're asleep but once you wake up it's just so stupid you wonder what all the fuss was about, why it upset you so much.' He shook his head. 'How can this be real? I know it wasn't a dream, I don't think I've had a dream in months...'

'I don't know either.' Hyukjae whispered, leaning his head upon Donghae's shoulder softly. 'I'm too tired to think about it, it's too much to absorb.'

'Yeah. Way too much.'

-

Hyukjae couldn't recall falling asleep, but when he opened his eyes they'd both slumped to the floor in a tangled heap, Donghae snoring gently against his knee and the scent of hot homecooked food filling his nostrils. His stomach lurched in anticipation, at this point he wasn't sure he'd even be able to keep the food down. He'd never been this hungry in his life, and the idea of throwing up the food so kindly offered to him was horrifying. He tapped Donghae's shoulder gently to rouse him, but the sleeping boy only grumbled grumpily, nuzzling his head further into the nook of Hyukjae's knee. He slapped him heartily on the back, causing him to sit up straight with a shout, a well aimed jab to Hyukjae's gut following only moments afterwards, cutting off his short-lived giggle.

They both startled and sat up stiffly, bowing softly when the Ajumma returned daintily through the doorway with dishes of steaming food. Hyukjae felt his mouth water at the sight, almost forgetting his manners before he stood in an attempt to help her with the following bowls, but the old woman refused, heartily shooing him away and insisting he sit down. 'I have help, you rest! You look like death, both of you.'

She shuffled away again, and Donghae shifted closer to the table, eager to begin his meal but wary of being rude by starting without the host. It was almost torturous to look at the steaming rice and fried pancakes and not be able to dig in. He felt himself let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding when the Ajummah returned with more bowls and dishes, hobbling over with a smile. She sat down nimbly for her age, grinning. Just as Hyukjae was anticipating her to begin the meal, she turned slightly and leaned out to the hallway, calling to someone. 'Young man, why are you hovering about, come and eat! These boys look about your age, introduce yourself!'

Hyukjae inwardly grumbled at the additional visitor halting his meal, but moved to rise in greeting fluidly. He and Donghae only managed to get to their knees before the world seemed to turn upside down.

'Well, I never thought I'd see these two faces again, nonetheless here.'

Donghae gripped Hyukjae's bicep like a vice, fingers trembling.

'Kibum?'

-

It was dark in the house, shadows creeping up the walls and stretching across the floor where Heechul cradled Jungsu in his arms, the crackling of the hearth lighting their features and painting everything in sepia. The floorboards creaked as Hankyung wandered around the house, checking for any signs of vulnerabilty and securing the windows and doors. Jungsu hadn't left Heechul's embrace since they'd locked eyes in the garden, and Heechul couldn't bring himself to let go of the skeleton that lay in his arms, barely warmed by the flames. The only sign that Jungsu was even alive was the soft breaths against Heechul's neck, the intermittent tightening of his fingers where they were balled in Heechul's shirt.

Jungsu hadn't surrendered Youngwoon. He'd spent hours watching the flames burn to ash and cinders, his eyes full of smoke whilst his breath made vapour in the crisp autumn night and Youngwoon's lifeless body lay face-down in the damp grass. When Hankyung had stumbled into the garden, blood on his forehead and a rigidity in his posture as if he was ready to fight or flee at a moments notice, Jungsu had felt the tension, the pain and the despair flood out of him in a great sigh; and when Heechul appeared behind, striding towards him with blank disbelief on his face, he felt pure relief, hope, and the fight went out of him at last. Now he could rest, he thought. When Heechuls arms wrapped around his cold, weak body, he'd gone limp, content to let Heechul catch him - content to be cared for, to not be on ege, to no longer be in fear of every touch or glance.

His mouth had lost the ability to make sound, his mind utterly ravaged and laid to waste by the stress of everything, and like a dead weight he'd let them pull him away from Youngwoon, let them warm him and hold him close. He was safe now, he could let go.

-

Heechul smoothed Jungsu's knotted, greasy hair away from his ghostly face, his cheekbones stark in the shadows cast from the fire and making him look more dead than alive. His heart was breaking, seeing Jungsu like this. Even in the two-tone light, he could see how pale Jungsu was, though he knew he looked much the same. When he'd caught sight of Jungsu through the smoke, sitting there like the world was falling around him, his heart had faltered in its weak rythm and he thought he'd finally succumbed to his hunger, his exhaustion; that he was hallucinating, finally giving in to the toil of their journey or whatever curse was in his blood. It wasn't until he'd laid his hands upon Jungsu's trembling shoulders that he'd allowed himself to believe that, yes, Jungsu was here. Jungsu was alive. His Jungsu.

He hadn't noticed Youngwoon lying only centimetres from him, not until Hankyung had stepped cautiously towards him, palm outstretched and a finger to his lips to signal Heechul to stay still and silent. Then he saw the prone body laid out on the grass, ash in his hair. His heart had jumped into his throat, and he clinged to Jungsu, pulling him away from the corpse, and wildly checking his weak, unresisting body for cuts or scratches or anything to suggest he'd been attacked by the dead man beside him. But there was nothing but bruises on his pale white skin, and a haunted, distant look in his eyes.

Hankyung was methodical and calm, shifting his weight to kneel slowly, pulling a pistol from his back pocket - the gun Heechul had shot only minutes before - and aiming it steadily at the corpses head, using his other hand to roughly push the heavy body onto its back before shifting away cautiously. The air left Heechul's lungs in a rush as Youngwoon's head lolled towards him. He was frightening to behold, truly. Human skin shouldn't be that colour, and veins ran over every inch of exposed flesh, his lips a deep purple. For a long moment Heechul could only think of how different Youngwoon looked now that he was slimmer, barely recognisable under the chubby cheeks that had defined him for as long as he'd known him.

Hankyung moved, the grass whispering and breaking the short, tense silence that had fallen. He adressed Jungsu when he spoke, clearly and calmly but softly enough that he wouldn't startle the obviously traumatised man before him. 

'How long has he been dead?' Jungsu only shook his head in response, a beat too late as his eyes focused on a patch of grass, glassy and distant. Hankyung frowned at Heechul, grimacing as he turned his attention back to Youngwoon's body. 'It looks like he was going to burn him, but I suppose he couldn't bring himself to do it.' Hankyung assessed, speaking as if Jungsu wasn't there.

Heechul wondered for a moment if Hankyung would be able to do the same when the time came, when Heechul would turn for good and nothing could be done. Would Hankyung kill him calmly, burn him until nothing was left? It made him feel cold, goosebumps rising on his skin. Hankyung turned his gaze toward him, and Heechul's thoughts felt sour, the questions burning on his tongue, but he swallowed the flame and directed his bitterness towards Youngwoon's memory instead. 'I should've killed the bastard when I had the chance.' He muttered disdainfully, unable to meet Hankyung's steady gaze and instead focusing on Jungsu.

Hankyung shifted, getting to his feet in a fluid motion as he studied their surroundings with scrutiny. He looked back and forth between Jungsu and Youngwoon for a moment before crouching once again, thoughtfully, and slowly pressing his fingers to Youngwoon's pulse point. His shoulders jumped slightly, enough to catch Heechul's eye from the corner of his vision, and he met Hankyung's bewildered expression. 'Heechul,' he started carefully, seriously, 'He has a pulse.'

-

Hankyung was sitting on the sofa, elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped before him as if deep in thought. He probably was. Bastard was always thinking about something. Sometime's he wanted to be in on whatever plans were formulating in his mind instead of always following behind.

'What should we do about him?' Heechul asked distantly, seeing Hankyung jump slightly at the sudden question. It had been a while since either of them had spoken so much as a word.

He took a moment before answering. 'Youngwoon or Jungsu?'

'-Youngwoon, obviously!' Heechul snapped irritably, voice still low so as not to startle Jungsu from his delicate slumber. He hadn't meant to be so brittle, but his nerves were on edge and he was bone tired, the tediosity of the situation grinding him to the bone.

Hankyung didn't flinch away from Heechul's foul mood, simply sighing wearily and shifting in his seat. 'All we can do is wait, unless you want me go out there and seal the deal right now?' It was a rhetorical question, and Heechul scoffed. 'Jungsu's too weak to go anywhere for a while, and there's no food in the house so I'll have to hop over a few fences to scout around and see what I can find in the neighbourhood.' Hankyung paused, raking a hand through his short hair. 'The house seems secure, it'll be good for us to rest for a while... regroup and get our thoughts together. We can't run around aimlessly now, we need a plan.'

Heechul heard the unspoken words, that they needed a plan because there was no time left. 'How can you be so calm, you bastard, I feel like I'm dying over here.' The words hadn't sounded so dark in his head, but as they rolled off his tongue he recoiled from them like a gunshot. He thought he saw Hankyung frown briefly, but he suddenly let out a short breath, almost a laugh.

'If you recall, I had a gun pointed at Sungmin not too long ago. I wouldn't call that calm.' He said wryly, avoiding the awkwardness that should have followed Heechul's remark. Heechul was happy to avoid it, too.

'You made a decision and followed it through, it wasn't a rash decision. I have no idea what I'm doing, where we're going. Why we're even bothering.' He looked away, tired of his train of thought. His shoulders slumped as he watched Jungsu sleep against his shoulder. 'I don't want Jungsu to see me like this, to see what I'm turning into.'

The sofa squeaked and Hankyung walked softly over to him, crouching beside him briefly to wrap a strong arm around his waist and squeeze. 'You haven't become anything,' Heechul felt the word yet ache to leave his tongue, 'and you never will. That's the plan, and it's a plan I intend on seeing through.' He released his comforting hold on Heechul's waist and Heechul felt the warmth of it tingling on his skin. A strong hand ruffled his hair and he let out an irritated whine. 'Stop thinking, you're not very good at it.' The Chinese man punctuated the statement with a quick, chaste kiss to Heechul's cheek before dodging out of the way of the lazy punch Heechul threw, careful not to jolt Jungsu. He danced up and away lightly, a quiet smile on his face as he wandered into the kitchen, bypassing the bag of guns and instead searching around for blunt and sharp utensils. When he returned he stopped in the doorway, letting a beat pass before speaking again. 'I'm going to check the houses around here, I won't be long. If you hear something, don't do anything stupid. I'll tap the window four times when I come back, don't open it for any other reason, no matter what.'

Heechul scoffed half-heartedly, sticking his nose in the air and muttering under his breath as Hankyung opened the back door, 'When have I ever done anything stupid.'

Hankyung caught his grumble, though, laughing quietly without turning around, 'If you search your name on Google, it gives you synonyms for short-tempered, abrupt and dumbass.' He quipped before closing the door quietly behind him.

The darkness seemed to close in around Heechul, then. Any other time an exhange of that type between them would have lifted his spirits, made something burn in his chest, but now he couldn't seem to fight the despair boiling away in his mind. He gently detached Jungsu from his shoulder, setting him down on the wooden floor, warmed by the fire. Standing, he stretched his wobbly legs before pulling a throw from the sofa and wrapping it tightly around Jungsu's curled up body. The man was thin as a rake.

He gave Jungsu a lingering look before stepping over to the patio door, pulling the curtain aside gently. Hankyung was no longer in sight, and his eyes fell upon Youngwoon's body, still lying there on the damp ground. A thin sheet of rain had started to fall, and his clothes were plastered to him now, droplets running down his face like tears. They'd decided to leave him out there, even if he had a pulse there was no telling when he'd finally turn. If he turned out there, at least they'd have walls and glass between them, or he'd wander into the night and out of thought, joining the rest of the undead. Killing him would destroy Jungsu, he was sure, and he couldn't do that to his friend. If Youngwoon had to die, it had to be by Jungsu's hand, or he'd never have closure.

Heechul stood there for a while in silence, thoughts lingering on what remained of the man who lay out there like an offering to whatever cruel Gods were up there watching them. There had been times he'd gotten along with Youngwoon, though they were few and far between, short and fleeting. He could be funny at times, teasing like a rough older brother, but Heechul couldn't forgive him for the way he'd treated Jungsu. It was always at the front of his mind whenever they interacted, always souring whatever semblance of acquaintance they could have reached.

How many times had he wished death upon him, and now he was exactly where he'd always thought he'd wanted him. And he found he didn't feel anything like he'd thought he would, feelings like relief, gratification or a sense of justification. Now, if anything, he felt regret, disappointment. He felt cheated out of his revenge.

He let the curtain fall shut, turning back to where Jungsu was curled up on the laminate looking frail and vulnerable in the glow of the fireplace. He took his seat beside him again, watching him sleep for a moment. He looked peaceful, more peaceful than he'd been even before all this crazy shit had happened. He'd always been a restless sleeper, frown lines in place and hands balled up in the sheets from whatever stress plagued his dreams, but now he looked the complete opposite.

Heechul picked absently at the flaking blood left in his hair, caked around his neck. He was too tired to feel grimy and his body felt like a lead weight, the strength completely gone from him. Hankyung had carried him all the way to the house, but he'd forgotten his exhaustion when he'd seen Jungsu, a blaze of energy burning through him. But the flame he'd felt burning then was burnt to embers now, cooling in his chest like a lump of smouldering coal. His feet were blistered and he stretched them closer to the fire, bending his toes with a grimace. Whatever food Hankyung was looking for... it wasn't for Heechul. He knew that, though it went unspoken. It was to restore Hankyung's strength, Jungsu's strength, so they could keep Heechul going for as long as they could. It made his stomach turn, the thought of feeding on Jungsu. Would he lose his rationality in the end, going for any victim he could find? The thought was too much to bear. Jungsu would offer himself freely to save Heechul, but Heechul, for as long as he could, would never take the invitation. Not as long as he drew breath.

Jungsu's hand was light when he held it in his own, the veins stark through his almost translucent skin. He traced his thumb down Jungsu's bony wrist, following his skin to the elbow, his frown deepening and a bad taste settling at the back of his tongue with every inch of skin he revealed. The white faded into blue, blossomed into purple, finger prints in his flesh from rough, angry hands. His grip tightened for a second, and he heard Jungsu groan weakly before pulling his hand away too quickly, his body recoiling from the contact as he sat up with an animalistic wariness in his eyes. It was as if he didn't recognise Heechul for a moment, his eyes roaming his face for a beat too long before defeat and sadness over came his features. His eyes were wet when he asked with a scratchy, rough voice, 'Are you real? Is it really you?'

Heechul nodded dumbly, not trusting his voice for a moment. It was only a while ago that Heechul had felt the same emotions Jungsu was currently experiencing, the overwhelming feeling that you're not as alone as you thought you were, that things might not be so awful after all. Jungsu turned his face to the flames for a moment, the light catching in his eyes and turning them gold. They were wet with fresh, unshed tears, and his lip quivered where he held it tightly with his teeth.

When Heechul reached out a hand, Jungsu's instinctive flinch didn't go unnoticed, and he gently turned Jungsu's face toward him, looking into his eyes with worry. His teeth were clenched tightly together, desperately trying to hold in a sob, and his shoulders trembled like a growing storm. It was only when Heechul dragged him into a tight embrace that Jungsu let his wounds lay bare, tears spilling down his cheeks as he balled his fists in the back of Heechul's shirt. His sobs came out like wails, and Heechul had to rock him gently to calm him, quiet the agony that was spilling from Jungsu's lips in case someone - something - heard them.

'What happened, Jungsu?' He whispered hoarsely, his shoulder growing damper by the second. 'What did he do to you this time?'

How many times had they been in this exact position back at college? Jungsu sobbing about whatever Youngwoon had done to hurt him, Heechul not knowing the right words to say to ease the heartache. Even with the world burning around them, their problems were still the same. Tiny and insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but glaringly difficult to overcome even when their lives were at stake.

Jungsu's reply came so slowly and quietly, Heechul had stopped expecting a reply, content to hold him as he wept, clutching the pieces of Jungsu to his chest as if he was broken china. But the sobs slowly subsided, Jungsu's breaths becoming hiccups, his wails turning to sniffles. When the words left Jungsu's mouth, softly whispered against his ear, Heechul felt himself go weak with the pain in Jungsu's voice, the horror of the reality Jungsu had been living, the hell Heechul hadn't been there to save him from.

'He raped me.' He rasped, 'Over and over again, and I did nothing. He was so kind to me before, so gentle, I didn't know what I'd done wrong, why he was treating me this way. But last night he was different, he was gentle and I was so confused. The soft touches hurt more than the rough ones, and I hated him so much. I can't explain it... I still can't stop loving him, even after what he's done. He was so different last night, I hadn't noticed until the last moment what he'd become, how he looked...' He choked, shaking his head against Heechul's shoulder, 'He wasn't the same Youngwoon I've known, not these past few weeks. Not since he was bitten. It wasn't him hurting me, I know it.' 

Heechul felt bitterness rising in him, his black hatred for Youngwoon and the urge to slap the naivety out of Jungsu burning in his chest, but he let Jungsu continue. 

'If he stood up in that garden right now, I'd go with him. Dead or alive. I wouldn't hesitate.' 

'I wouldn't let you.' Heechul whispered sternly. He wouldn't, even if it killed him. Jungsu had seen too much pain already, Heechul would never let him feel it again, not for as long as he still drew breath. He'd never let him out of his sight again. 'You're with me and Hankyung now, we're going to think of a plan or something. We'll fix everything, we have to fix everything.'

He felt Jungsu's grip on his shirt loosen, detaching himself from Heechul slowly until they sat face to face. His eyes were swollen red and he sniffed weakly, a wry smile on his lips. 'You look like shit, Heechul.' He croaked, a spark of life reaching his eyes again, the old Jungsu alive somewhere in this husk of a man, and Heechul felt a smile bloom on his own lips in return.

'Don't we all?'

\---

_September_

Sungmin had grown closer to Henry during their journey, taking every moment they ended up together in the back seat as a chance to get to know eachother better. He'd learnt the younger man was a violinist, and fluent in English from his upbringing in Canada. Gradually their conversations turned to English lessons, Henry often crying with laughter over Sungmin's utter lack of talent when it came to picking up languages, yet Sungmin was an avid learner and wouldn't give up even when the whole car was ridiculing him. Zhoumi had offered lessons in Mandarin, but Sungmin couldn't wrap his tongue around the sounds at all. It was hard not to get frustrated when Kyuhyun would chuckle at his struggles, having picked up the language deftly from Zhoumi in such a short time, learning phrases with ease and no small amount of arrogance. 

Kyuhyun was more relaxed around Zhoumi, their personalities gelling well together. While Zhoumi was pleasant and bright, always offering a cheery smile even when he was tired, Sungmin found that he was very alike to Kyuhyun, both of their minds neat and organised and sharp. When Kyuhyun was with Zhoumi, the tension left his shoulders, his words came with more ease and his stoic demeanor would slip for a while. It was refreshing, and he would watch with a warm feeling whenever the two talked, enjoying all the different sides of Kyuhyun.

The four of them trusted eachother deeply, now, each of them with their own roles within the team they'd become. They knew when they needed rest, when to stop and when it was too dangerous; who was the best getaway driver (Henry drove like a man posessed, surprisingly) and who passed gas the most while they slept, effectively suffocating everyone in the car and happily sleeping through the strangled cries for oxygen (also Henry).

Their path had been relatively smooth going overall, rarely running into danger as they left the cities and suburbs behind, climbing higher into the mountains. The air was crisp up here, a fresh Autumn breeze ruffling their hair and filling their lungs. They all looked horrible, unshaved and shabby with lopsided haircuts dealt out by Zhoumi with a small pair of kitchen scissors they'd picked up along the way. Kyuhyun was the only one brave enough to shave with the switchblade he carried, and they all resented him for it. Out of all of them, Kyuhyun was the only one who didn't look like some kind of homeless man, instead giving off the feeling of a schoolboy who's mother couldn't afford to take him to the hairdressers.

Zhoumi would often pull down the sunvisor to check his reflection in the small mirror, going off on a long monologue about how much of a tragedy it was and how he'd rather throw himself to the cannibals than go another day looking so bedraggled. The facial hair added a good ten years to Henry's rounded face, and Sungmin found himself looking strikingly masculine for the first time in his life. He'd always been complimented on his feminine features and pretty lips, but this look somehow made him feel stronger, rougher. Like he could stand in a river completely naked and catch a fish with his bare hands, or something (a statement that had drawn hysterical laughter from everyone in the car, for some reason.) He thought fondly of how Shindong would cry with laughter if he was around to see him now, but didn't linger on the thought.

A few weeks ago they could smell the sea, but now it was all wet leaves and crispy Autumn air. Sungmin looked out with satisfaction at the red and orange leaves that rose above them, creating a tunnel over their path. He could see glimpes of fields through the trees, blurred with motion. Leaves would fly through the windows every now and then, and Sungmin and Henry would play with them, trying to outdo eachother with the designs they peeled from the vibrant foliage. 

Sometimes they'd sing whatever song popped into one of their heads, and found they could all carry a tune, especially Zhoumi and Kyuhyun, harmonising perfectly. Henry would beatbox while Sungmin tried to rap pathetically, and it passed the time well enough.

The sky was a pale blue today, the sun hot when it found you, but cool and crisp in the shadows. Sungmin had the window rolled down, the wind blowing through his greasy hair as he closed his eyes, taking a sweet lungful of the rich mountain air. Henry was trying to explain the difference between an adjective and an adverb but he'd long since became distracted, not that Henry had noticed, giving a perfect English lesson to nobody in particular. He could hear Zhoumi muttering something in Chinese as he swatted the sunvisor down, blocking the sun from blinding him, and Kyuhyun laughed softly at whatever remark he'd made. 

This time of year was Sungmins' favourite, reminding him of pumpkin soup and fireworks. Leaves were sticking to the wheels of the car, making a wet sound as they drove, and he imagined farmers bringing in their harvest at this time of year, marketplaces full to the brim with seasonal fruits and vegetables. He could almost picture the villiagers in their colourful workclothes as they worked the fields, baskets on their backs and their tanned, leathery skin shining in the sunlight. In fact, he could imagine it a bit too vividly.

It wasn't his imagination.

-

The Ajummah was completely oblivious to the tension between the three of them, tottering around her small house and plying them with all kinds of food their shrunken stomachs just couldn't fit. Donghae felt like he'd fallen into a paralell universe, his eyes jumping between Kibum and Hyukjae, trying to read what kind of emotions they were feeling, if they were as shocked and confused and overjoyed as him. Neither of them looked overjoyed, Donghae could see that clearly. Hyukjae looked like he'd just committed a crime and got caught red-handed, like a deer caught in headlights. Kibum was simply enjoying his meal calmly, asking Donghae random questions he couldn't answer coherently. Donghae had barely touched his food, and Hyukjae seemed to have the same appetite as him, their plates almost full still. He felt disrespectful toward the kind old woman for not finishing the food she'd lovingly prepared for them, but he felt as if he might vomit at any second.

The old lady bled them for information until she was satisfied, or bored, either way she left them in peace soon enough, writing what she'd hoped was juicy gossip off as 'fantasies of a young mind'. The air seemed to grow colder once she was gone, and Donghae felt a lump grow in his throat. It was Kibum who spoke first.

'You guys look like you've seen a ghost.' He snickered, setting his tea down with a clang. Donghae didn't notice how it made Hyukjae jump out of his skin, Kibum's words making him turn a shade paler.

Donghae however was warmed by the familiar sound of Kibum's voice, feeling a smile spreading over his features. 'I thought you were dead,' he said with wonder, eyes wide. His smile faltered as he looked away, 'We left you. We left you for dead.'

Kibum reached across the table with a smile, taking Donghae's hand comfortingly. 'It wasn't  _your_  fault Donghae, there was nothing  _you_  could have done.' Hyukjae stiffened at Kibum's pointed tone, but Donghae only smiled, innocently accepting the words of comfort and missing the tension between the two completely. 'Either way, I survived. In the end I would've only slowed you guys down, right Hyuk?'

Kibum's demeanor changed, his smile becoming something more menacing, his shoulders stiffer as he seemed to loom over Hyukjae. Donghae didn't understand the change in mood, watching as Hyukjae seemed to relax, rolling his shoulders back and tilting his head the side cockily.

'I did what I had to do.'

-

'We're in Jeongseon,' Kyuhyun announced from behind the crinkled map he'd pulled from the glove compartment. They were parked in a side street, hearts racing with excitement. They'd driven past houses, crowds of villiagers going about their daily lives in the streets, the markets bustling. Nobody seemed to have a clue what was happening down in the city.

'Isn't this place a huge tourist spot? Why do the people here seem so calm, surely they must've been flooded with survivors.' Sungmin muttered, feeling his stomach growl urgently. He could smell hot food through the open window from one of the houses in the next street, and he was reminded of how starving he really was. They had plenty of food in the boot, but it was all tinned soups or ramen. Just the idea of a cooked meal was driving him to distraction.

Henry fidgeted beside him, 'Whatever we decide to do, I really need to pee.'

'Maybe we can make an agreement with someone, hard work for room and board or something.' Zhoumi suggested, fixing his messy hair in the mirror absently. They were all desperate to get out, and Sungmin couldn't be bothered to strategise anymore, opening his door.

'Let's just see what happens, we can't stay in here forever.' He felt the afternoon sun warm him through his sweater and squinted his eyes against it, stretching his arms toward the sky then bending to touch the floor, feeling his muscles sing. They all emptied from the vehicle and grabbed whatever they could from the boot, slinging backpacks over their shoulders and making their way to the centre of the villiage, pots and pans clanging as they walked.

Within minutes a crowd of children had decided to follow them, staring at them like aliens. Some old women came over to them, speaking rapidly in a strong dialect and fussing at them. Zhoumi looked between Sungmin and Kyuhyun as if waiting for a translation but Kyuhyun only shrugged, the words indescipherable even to a native speaker. Suddenly they were being pulled in different directions, Henry and Zhoumi going one way while Kyuhyun and Sungmin were dragged the other. Henry's face was a picture as he was led away, utter confusion radiating from him comically. Sungmin could only smile sympathetically before they were ushered into a house and plied with food and tea. 

As soon as his backside hit the cushioned floor, Sungmin's exhaustion hit him like a freight train. Kyuhyun seemed to be in much the same state, merely nodding at anything that sounded like a question. More and more kept entering the house (one by one, so Kyuhyun and Sungmin were constantly having to stand and bow in greeting for every new guest), and eventually their speech slowed down enough to be understandable - obviously catching onto the fact they wouldn't get much gossip out of the two youngers if they continued speaking so rapidly. They were plied with all sorts of treats as they were interrogated by the nosy ajummahs, and Sungmin ate until he thought he'd pop, bowing his head in greeting and gratitude so often he thought his neck would snap.

The ladies all agreed they needed to clean them up and get them fed, that much was clear, and Sungmin let them fuss, thankful for their hospitality. Kyuhyun didn't seem as grateful, though, his face completely sour at the compulsive pinching and prodding from the wrinkled fingers. Sungmin took a sick pleasure in watching his discomfort, snickering to himself. 

He took a moment to drink in the sight of him, dishevelled as he was it was nice to let his eyes linger over his features. It was rare that they'd have time together, and times when he could stare without being caught were even rarer. He thought of how much more handsome Kyuhyun seemed now, even moreso than when he was just his silent crush back at college. He seemed more human now, a vulnerabilty under his stern, collected exterior. It was hard to think that only a month ago Kyuhyun had been barely human, not even a heartbeat in his chest. The colour was high in his cheeks, his lips a sweet shade of pink and his eyes a nutty brown, and Sungmin realised those eyes were looking at him. He jumped slightly, Kyuhyun locking eyes with him and raising an eyebrow. Kyuhyun's eyes lingered, making him blush crimson. He looked away, throwing himself into conversation with the nearest interrogator, feeling Kyuhyuns gaze burning a hole in his face.

He didn't want Kyuhyun's eyes on him while he looked like this. It was different in the car, they all looked as bad as eachother, noses numb to the stench they reeked of. There was no time to trade amorous glances, one of them either asleep or in a different seat of the car.

Soon a fresh round of tea was brought for the gathering, and a young woman emerged from the kitchen with the tray. She didn't seem like a villiager, and she smiled softly at Sungmin as she walked over to them, setting the tea on the table softly. She leaned close with a giggle on her lips, whispering conspiratorially into his ear. 'They were like this when I arrived, too. They'll get bored soon enough, don't worry.' She winked as she stepped away, making her way around the group before disappearing into the kitchen again. She had a Seoul accent, Sungmin noticed, and he wondered how she'd ended up here. He took a sip from his fresh tea thoughtfully, missing the look of pure jealousy on Kyuhyun's face.

By the time the women had cleared out it was well past dark, and the ajummah who owned the household encouraged them sweetly to make themselves at home, showing them the room they could stay in and where to put their dirty clothes. Sungmin thanked her graciously wishing her goodnight before retiring to the bedroom himself, lying down on the bedroll for a moment with a sigh. Kyuhyun had gone for the first shower, and he could hear the water running. Just the idea of washing his own grimy body was somehow erotic, and he found his thoughts wandering to the heated moment in the van, the interrupted exchange on the bonnet of the car. Running his fingers through his hair absently he cringed at the greasiness. It had been bearable in the car, when they all looked as awful as eachother, but now he couldn't stand looking so grimy and dishevelled.

He stood with a groan and left the room, carefully entering the bathroom with quiet steps. He didn't want to intrude on Kyuhyun's privacy but he wanted to shave so desperately. He wet the razor sitting on the edge of the sink and lathered his face slowly, glancing at Kyuhyun from the corner of his eye. The curtain was pulled, but he could see his silhouette clearly. He looked so thin - he always had been skinny and long, but now it was truly noticable. 

He shaved distractedly, surprised he didn't cut himself as his glances turned to stares and he found himself envying the water dripping down Kyuhyun's body, rolling over his broad shoulders, down his long, lean legs and his firm buttocks. He caught himself before his mind could wander any further, and he jumped when he returned his attention to his reflection. The beard was a distant memory now, and he stroked the smooth skin of his chin reverently. 

It felt good to be smooth again, to see his signature jawline. He could see how pale he'd grown, now, how red his lips seemed against his complexion. They were chapped and flakey, and the bags under his eyes were dark and deep. Even so, he felt more appealing, more like his old self again. Of course his insecurities were still there, under the surface, and he found himself standing there wondering if Kyuhyun would want to kiss him now. The thought brought another pressing matter to his mind, and he almost groaned at the freshness of toothpaste against his dirty teeth. It really was the simple things that made you feel human.

He wiped the foam from his lips, running his tongue over his teeth. He was restless with nervous excitement as he peeled his dirty clothes off, kicking them over to where Kyuhyun's were heaped, and he took tentative steps towards the shower, feeling with certainty that this would be the stupidest thing he'd ever do.

-

Kyuhyun pressed his forehead against the cool tiles, groaning as the hot water spilled down his back, caressing his sore, tight muscles. Washing his hair had never felt so good, and the drag of his nails against his scalp was almost a religious experience. As he lathered his body, he thought of the girls soft-looking hands, how she'd smiled at Sungmin like a flower turned towards the sun. Would Sungmin prefer that? The softness of a womans touch, her kiss, the firmness of her breasts?

He tried to push away the thoughts coming to his mind, but they played like a film stuck on loop. Images of Sungmin making love, his gentle caresses and the way he'd make her moan, how slowly he'd pleasure her. But his touches slowly became rougher, and the girl flipped him onto his back, holding him down with a strength she couldn't posess. And suddenly it was Kyuhyun looming above Sungmin, his hands on his skin, his lips against his neck. 

He ran a hand down his chest at the pictures in his mind, taking his hardening cock in hand with a shaky breath and throwing his head back at the relief the touch brought him. He hadn't got off since they were still with Hankyung and Heechul, and he was painfully aroused.

He thought of himself between Sungmin's legs, holding them apart firmly. How Sungmin would look with his head thrown back in pleasure, Kyuhyun's name on his wet, red lips as he moaned. His breaths were wet against the tiles, mouth open as he gasped and pumped himself faster, eyebrows knitted at the building pleasure. There was guilt beneath the pleasure, some feeling of disrespect for thinking of Sungmin in this way when he was only a room away, but the pleasure was too close and he needed release. He'd come embarrassingly fast, he knew that, but he was too greedy for the images running through his head - Sungmin on his knees, taking him into his mouth like he was praying to a God; pressed against a wall, begging Kyuhyun to fuck him open, fuck him deeper, fuck him harder.

Kyuhyun's breathing was ragged now, and he braced an arm above his head, ready for his orgasm to hit him as hard as he thought it would.

He jumped when a cold hand ran down his back, going stiff as a statue, shocked from his reverie as he pressed himself painfully against the tiles. Sungmin's voice was deeper, breathier than he could remember hearing before.

'It's just me,' he breathed, voice shaky, 'I didn't mean to startle you. I just thought it would be better if we shared water-' he paused in his rambling and Kyuhyun grit his teeth, holding back a whimper as his cock pressed up against the tiles painfully, aching for release. How would Sungmin react when he realised he'd been touching himself? He felt mortified. Sungmin's voice perked up behind him again, stuttering and embarrassed. 'S-sorry I didn't mean to intrude on you. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable-'

'No! No,' Kyuhyun cut him off abruptly, 'You haven't done anything wrong, I just...'

Sungmin let out a breath behind him, and he felt it tickle his skin. 'What is it then? You're all tense, at least look at me. We shared a room for two years, I've seen you naked plenty of times, there's no need to be shy.'

Kyuhyun let his shoulders droop with resignation, giving in to his fate. He let his head hang, hiding his face as he turned stiffly to face Sungmin, a flush creeping from his ears to his chest.

'Oh,' Sungmin said softly after a painfully long moment, 'that's why.'

Kyuhyun opened his mouth to apologise, still not brave enough to raise his head, but the words died on his tongue when Sungmin came into view. On his knees, his brown eyes looking up at him with a smirk on his lips. Kyuhyun thought he was going to die.

'Is this ok?' Sungmin asked softly, a hand making its way up Kyuhyun's thigh, and Kyuhyun's voice came out an octave higher than he would like to admit.

'It's more than ok.'

Sungmin didn't miss a beat, his smile growing for a second before he pulled Kyuhyun closer by his hips, wetting his lips in anticipation. He stroked his hands up Kyuhyun's thighs twice consideringly before placing one on his hip, the other moving to wrap confidently around the base of Kyuhyun's length, stroking once, twice, testingly before Sungmin trailed his tongue from base to tip, pulling away with a grin. Kyuhyun had lost the ability to formulate words, his fingers moving to tangle in Sungmin's hair, his hips trembling under Sungmin's comforting grip. He thrust forwards impatiently and Sungmin raised his eyebrows, pouting in mock annoyance before taking Kyuhyun into his mouth until his lips pressed against his fist, and Kyuhyun sobbed at the sudden wet heat engulfing him, fighting the urge to thrust into it. 

Sungmin pulled off with a pop, running his tongue over the head and licking a stripe up the sensitive underside, making Kyuhyun groan impatiently. He hadn't pegged Sungmin as a tease, but a part of him didn't really mind. After a few more tentative licks, Sungmin locked eyes with Kyuhyun, sinking down onto his cock with hollowed cheeks and sucking in earnest, Kyuhyun's head lolling back to his the tiles behind him. Sungmin's fist left his cock, both hands moving to rest on Kyuhyun's hips, guiding him to start thrusting into the heat of his mouth. Kyuhyun's mouth went slack as his hips snapped forward, watching Sungmin through a fog, the steam of the shower making him lightheaded. His knees grew weaker with every pull of Sungmin's lips, and he tightened his grip on his hair, teeth clenched as he tried to warn Sungmin of his impending climax. Sungmin didn't seem to pay attention, sucking with even more vigor, Kyuhyun's cock hitting the back of his throat with every thrust. He hummed and swallowed around his cock, and Kyuhyun let out a startled moan, coming hard and suddenly deep into Sungmin's throat. 

Sungmin choked for a moment before regaining his composure, a twinkle in his eye as he gazed up at Kyuhyun, swallowing every drop until Kyuhyun could barely hold himself up, his flaccid cock falling from Sungmin's mouth with a soft 'pop' before he sank to his knees before him, pulling him in for a wet, awkward kiss. Their teeth clashed and it was too wet, but Kyuhyun savoured the feeling of Sungmin's soft lips against his own, running his hands over the skin he'd yet to touch. He could taste his own come on Sungmin's tongue, but found the idea more arousing than repulsive. 

Sungmin broke the kiss, gasping as he shifted awkwardly, his own erection heavy between his legs. Kyuhyun looked at him, his cheeks red and his lips kissed to fullness, and he pulled him into his lap, a hand moving to knead the soft curve of his buttocks while the other wrapped around his straining cock, watching how Sungmin's head fell back, mouth open in a soundless moan. His pleasured expressions made Kyuhyun's mouth go dry, and he pressed his lips to Sungmin's pale neck, sucking bruises into the flesh and making Sungmin gasp sweetly. It wasn't long ago his lips had been pressed to this same silken expanse of skin, but the sounds Sungmin had made back then were for a different reason entirely. He tightened his grip, feeling Sungmin's hips jump in response, grinding against him, fucking into his fist. They kissed messily, Sungmin's gasps and soft moans echoing in the silence, and he came with a whimper against Kyuhyun's chest, falling limply into Kyuhyun's arms.

They held eachother for a moment, blissed out, before Sungmin leaned back with a languorous smile on his lips, breaths harsh and irregular.

'It's about fucking time.'


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an: uni is kicking my ass sorry for the wait! i've been really stuck with how i want the plot to progress as this is such an old story - your comments really help me think of things! also......... there's a twist in store for youngwoon in the next few chapters, anticipate it!

 

When Hankyung returned, the warm light of an early autumn dawn was already breaking, and his body was sore from lack of rest. The houses in the neighbourhood proved fruitful, and his back strained from the weight of the goods he carried there; tinned fruits and frozen meats still within their expiry date. Not a single room had been left unsearched during his sweep. Even if Heechul was becoming something inhuman, something that no longer hungered for what humans should - Hankyung needed the nourishment. He'd been too long without taking proper care of his body, and he could feel it in his aching joints, his laboured breaths. Every second of the past month had been spent caring for Heechul, planning their next moves, keeping Kyuhyun and Sungmin in line - but now it was only him and Heechul. And Jungsu - but Jungsu would be easily fixed, not emotionally, of course - but when it came to things like feeding the man and seeing him brought back to some semblance of a functioning human being there would be no difficulties.

Hankyung needed his health for another reason. 

If Hankyung was weak, Heechul would perish. Not for lack of protection, because Heechul was no damsel in distress - if they'd never met, Hankyung had no doubt the man would be striding on without hinderance. No, Heechul needed him for a more primal nature. 

Hankyung was his food.

Whether Heechul wanted to acknowlege it or not, this was fact. Hankyung had accepted it the moment he'd read Heechul's files, since he'd pieced the jigsaw together in his mind. Heechul needed flesh, no other food would sustain him. While normal food might fill his belly, no vitality would be gained from it - Hankyung could see that easily, watching how Heechul faded each day even with sufficient meals (that Hankyung sacrificed from his own portions, unbeknownst to Heechul).

Sungmin had been the only card in his hand, and he'd lost him. He'd watched with intensity how Kyuhyun transformed from a shadow of himself to the man he once was, all from the taste of Sungmin's blood. If they'd stayed, Heechul would be safe and healthy and  _right_  again, in his arms. However, they'd slipped from his grasp due to his carelessness, all of his painstakingly detailed planning turned to dust and ashes, and his heart dropped whenever he took in the sight of Heechul's ever-weakening state, the paleness of his skin, the circles beneath his rheumy eyes.

When Hankyung traipsed lethargically into the garden of their hideout, he spared a careful glance over at Youngwoon's prone body, still lying face-down in the grass. He was still, his back not even rising to take a breath. There was a slight twinge of pity in his heart for Jungsu, and he recalled the harsh words he'd shared with Youngwoon on the rooftop so many months ago. Things were so different now. All of them were different, in the same way the world was different. How could anything stay the same when so much had been destroyed, be it between them or the ground beneath their feet.

A shaky sigh left his chapped lips, and he wiped the thin layer of sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand, shrugging his shoulders to adjust the bag on his back. Raising his fist, he knocked gently against the glass of the patio door, feeling a surge of relief flood him when the curtain twitched and Heechul appeared before him, unlocking the door and letting him inside. He locked the door behind him, groaning as he dropped the bag to the floor. Rolling his shoulders, he considered Heechul quietly. The older man had let him in without a word, returning to Jungsu's side by the fire with his back toward Hankyung. The flames must have burned out hours ago, only cool coals left in the hearth, and Jungsu clung to the blanket wrapped around his shoulders where he lay on the floor. Heechul carded his fingers through his friends hair, robotic in his subtle movements, and even without seeing his face Hankyung could tell his mind was far away on distant thoughts.

He lingered a moment where he stood, running his tongue over his parched lips. For a second a thought passed his mind, of how he wished they'd never stumbled upon Jungsu here, how they could've continued in their mutual ignorance of Heechul's physical state, but he dashed the notion from his mind. They couldn't lie to themselves any longer, and finding Jungsu was a stepping stone on the path to finding a solution.

He took the bag by his feet into his hands again, grunting softly at the weight as he carried it to the kitchen, stocking the kitchen meditatively. At the very least, with Jungsu as a distraction, Hankyung could be alone with his thoughts for a moment. They'd be safe here for the time being - not a single house he'd scavenged had shown any sign of disturbance, all the residents seemingly evacuating the neighbourhood in a rush without thinking to take food or things they didn't deem necessary. There was no way they could move with Jungsu as weak as he was, not to mention Heechul. 

Twisting the tap he let out a satisfied sigh at the sight of running water, thankful for the small kindness. Bringing the rim of the glass to his lips, he closed his eyes, letting his mind wander for a moment to the days before everything had fallen apart. How he'd starved for Heechul's gaze, a single word spared in his direction - and now here he was with the man of his aching affections at his fingertips. He was lost. Truly, utterly lost. Back then his mind had been focused entirely on the Heechul he'd imagined from stolen glances and passes in hallways, but now the real thing was his to indulge in entirely and it was frightening. When he'd woken up beside him in the department store, his heart had stopped in his chest, the breath taken from his lungs. Honestly, he'd been everything his mind had thought him to be, an enigma, feisty, beautiful beyond words. Now he was a pale shadow of that man, barely clinging to his humanity as much as he tried to make Hankyung believe otherwise.

For a moment Hankyung considered how little he knew about Heechul. How little they'd spoken of small things, always distracted by more pressing matters. Had Heechul ever inquired about Hankyung's life? In the end, did it even matter at all if they knew of their past selves when everything had changed so drastically? He wondered if knowing Heechul's little idiosyncrasies and quirks would make him easier to heal - if knowing everything about him could give Hankyung some material to work with when it came to bringing a smile to the face that was so aching for one.

'I could hear you thinking from in there.' Heechul's raspy voice ripped him from his thoughts, and he turned to him where he stood in the doorway, leaning heavily against the frame. His forehead was wet with cold sweat, his eyes distant and unfocused. 'Sharing is caring.' He smirked weakly, tilting his head slightly as his eyes settled on Hankyung tiredly.

Hankyung set the glass of water down, leaning against the counter and resting his hands behind him as he shrugged lightly. 'Nothing you should worry about, I'm just trying to get my head together.'

Heechul's smirk faltered, and he stepped away from the door frame, swaying slightly as he came to stand before Hankyung, hands moving to bracket the Chinese mans' hips gently. Hankyung couldn't help but drop his gaze away from Heechul's suddenly intense focus on his face. He'd never liked being looked at so closely, always preferring to hold people at a distance so they couldn't see his glaring imperfections and shortcomings. 

'Why do you keep things to yourself so much when I'm here begging you to share the load?' Heechul asked softly, imploringly. Hankyung kept finding himself faltering whenever Heechul revealed the softer side of himself, the side Hankyung's mind had never invented when he'd imagined the man before him not so long ago, when he was still practically a figment of his imagination. Snappy retorts and well-meant jabs were so much easier to roll with than the soft words that fell from his lips when Hankyung least expected them. 'When we talk, it's about nothing.' He shook his head with a frown, and Hankyung desperately wanted to smooth the creases from his perfect skin. 'Everything has been so crazy that I never had time to think of how I don't really know you at all. We know nothing about eachother, Hankyung. Isn't that strange?'

Hankyung finally brought himself to meet Heechul's eyes, finding them damp and weary. Slowly, he brought a hand to trace that perfect jaw before dropping it to stroke at his arm soothingly. It took him a moment to find the words he wanted, and he cursed whatever God that Heechul couldn't speak Mandarin. 

'Does it really matter? We've got this far, haven't we?' Heechul pulled a face at his words but Hankyung persisted. 'Every moment we've spent together has been real, I haven't been acting or pretending to be someone I'm not. Whether it's the same for you, I have no idea. Does knowing trivial facts about our pasts really matter?'

'Of course it does.' Heechul whispered, shaking his head softly as he looked up at Hankyung searchingly. 'We went to the same college and yet I can't recall seeing you even once, yet here we are as if we've known eachother for years. It's weird. We rely so heavily on eachother when we're practically strangers... and this sickness inside me is such a burden-'

'You're not a burden.' Hankyung cut him off sharply, gritting his teeth. Heechul's serious side was so hard to navigate, and he felt himself reeling from the multiple paths this conversation could take them down. 'Surely you know that I don't think of you as a weight to carry?'

'Thats my point!' Heechul threw his hands up in frustration, 'How would I know how you feel when you're practically a mute?' He let out a shaky sigh, energy draining from the small outburst as he swayed softly on his feet. Hankyung missed it completely, too caught up in the delicate conversation, the urge to handle Heechul's current thoughts like shards broken glass seeming of pressing importance.

'Is this because of Jungsu?' As the question left his lips, he immediately regretted his words. Heechul's face turned to one of hurt and anger.

'Is what because of Jungsu? What does he have to do with this? I'm talking about us you idiot.'

'These thoughts never seemed to be on your mind before now. You don't need me anymore, right?' It had been nagging at him the whole night, how Heechul had completely withdrawn from him the moment he'd laid eyes on Jungsu. It was understandable, of course, but Hankyung still felt hurt, the need to monopolize growing stronger at the back of his mind.

Heechul pulled away from Hankyung, looking at him with disdain. 'How childish,' he spat with disbelief, 'You really think I'm that fickle?' Hankyung's chest tightened at the hurt on Heechul's face, and he reached for him placatingly only to have his hand slapped away roughly. 'I must be truly stupid to not have figured this out sooner. Shit, how would things have been if I'd never ended up at that fucking mall with you. Everything would be different.' Heechul's eyes were wet, his gaze fixed on the floor, and Hankyung reached for him again. ' _Don't touch me!'_ Heechul all but screamed, his thin arms pushing against Hankyung's broad chest to no avail as Hankyung suffered the blows and pulled him roughly into his embrace, feeling Heechul's resolve weaken and his fists settle in the fabric of his shirt with a weak sob. 'I hate this.' He whispered against Hankyung's neck, breath tickling the hairs at his nape. 

Hankyung smoothed a hand over Heechul's back, the other coming up to rest in his dark hair. 'You need to eat.'

'M'not hungry.' Heechul protested weakly, pressing himself closer to Hankyung as if escaping from his words.

'Heechul-'

'I don't want Jungsu to see me like this.' He breathed, and Hankyung would have missed it if Heechul's lips weren't so close to his ear. 'He doesn't need to see this thing I'm becoming.'

'I'll fix you, I promise.' It was an empty promise, and they both knew it, but it was all he could say in comfort. He felt Heechul huff a mirthless laugh against his skin, softly uttering _'liar'_ before his dry lips grazed the warm flesh of his neck, perfect teeth sinking in as Hankyung groaned in pain, biting his fist and pulling Heechul tightly to his chest as he fed.

At some point his eyes had squeezed shut from the agony, and he opened them again as lightheadedness washed over him, his full weight now resting against Heechul as he held onto him with whatever strength remained. He saw movement from the corner of his eye, and a dull twinge of panic rose within him, growing in it's urgency through his dampened senses. He tilted his head to the side, the world spinning slightly, before he focused on the figure stood still as stone in the doorway.

Jungsu's eyes were wide, his mouth pulled down at the sides in horror as he took in the two of them locked in their embrace. It was past dawn now, the sun rising brightly and spilling pale light into the kitchen, illuminating the blood on Hankyung's shirt, Heechul's feverish grip on his shoulders, the red of his lips against Hankyung's neck.

Weakly he brought his hands to push Heechul away, but he'd gone too long without feeding, his mind too lost in his hunger. His lips moved to form words, to calm Jungsu or alert Heechul to his presence, but he was too weak, his strength slipping from him with every bob of Heechul's throat.

With all the power still left in his foggy, distant mind, he heard himself utter slurred words before his sight burned away from red to black, his eyelids becoming too heavy and his conciousness leaving him.

_'It's not what it looks like, Jungsu.'_


	10. Chapter 10

Hyukjae stood alone in the small kitchen, the sound of running water and the clattering of ceramic and steel the only sound as he scrubbed at the pots and pans he'd been tasked to clear away. The sun was lower now, Autumn rolling in lazily and blinding him as he stood looking through the window. He watched Donghae laughing as he broke a sweat kicking a tatty soccer ball around with some neighbourhood children, innocent glee painting his features in the afternoon light. He cracked open the window with a sud covered hand, letting in the cool air and the sounds of laughter and life. Silence was something he'd grown to despise, something that set him ill at ease and made him glance at every shape and shadow with suspicion.

The fear hadn't ebbed at all, even after nearly a month of being in this safe haven. There were a few other survivors here, he'd found, but he had no desire to meet with them - it was something he wanted to forget, and seeing their eyes when they passed him in the street would always remind him of how hollow he must look now, too; how haunted and lost being out there in the wasteland had left him. Sometimes he found himself tracing his fingers over the scar on his forehead, now barely a memory, wondering if his mind had been put right in the end or if things were still as confused as they'd been before.

Being in this place for so long, he'd sometimes reflect on how things were, how they could be if the virus hadn't spread. Things wouldn't be so fucked up, probably. He rarely let Donghae out of his sight, always keeping him in his peripheral as if he'd disappear the second he glanced away. With Kibum around, anxious thoughts of the younger boy getting his claws into him, poisoning him against Hyukjae with the truth he should have told his friend long ago, would always creep in and smother him. How the younger boy had survived was a mystery that he couldn't solve; he'd seen him fall, saw those things close in around him and claw at him feverishly. Honestly, it kept him up at night.

Considering the tension between the three of them now, it was hard to think back to their past together; the times they'd sit around playing video games and smoking pot late into the night, only essays and assignments to worry about. Looking deeper, though, there'd always been a distance there, an awkwardness they couldn't shake. The three of them had grown up in the same neighbourhood, visiting each others houses from a young age due to the closeness of their parents. Naturally, they stuck together like glue, attending the same schools and eventually choosing the same college. Kibum was the clever one, refined and intellectual; always besting Hyukjae when it came to confidence, better with girls, better at parties. He'd always had a twinge of resentment and jealousy and it was like a wound left to fester, gradually infecting him completely until he found himself subconsciously battling the younger boy, fruitlessly trying to step into his spotlight.

If none of this had happened, they'd be taking their finals now. He'd always wanted to be a dancer, always being praised for his style and fluidity and imagination. He and Donghae would stay up for hours, covered in sweat and exhausted but filled with excitement at completing a routine. That was something Kibum could never take from him, those hours he spent with Donghae alone - Kibum couldn't dance at all. Kibum's major was drama, as well as linguistics and philosophy, sharing classes with Donghae most of the time while Hyukjae only saw him in dance. Hyukjae only really went to college to be with his friend, finding no interest in academics as he had no nack for it. He could have easily made his way to success on his own or joined a dance academy, but where Donghae went, Hyukjae would always follow.

His thoughts were interrupted suddenly when the kitchen door creaked open, the only sign he'd been startled being the sharp sound of a plate smashing. A red line bloomed on his palm, quickly filling with blood, and he grit his teeth as lazy footsteps clicked against the tiled floor. 

'Ah, you're here.' 

'Were you looking for me?' Hyukjae bit out around the pain, grabbing a cloth and pressing it against the wound tightly. He didn't need to turn around to know it was Kibum, staring out of the window stiffly. He could see his smug, shit-eating grin without looking.

'No, I just thought you'd be with Donghae. The two of you are even more inseparable than before.' Even without being insulting, Kibum was insulting, and Hyukjae felt his shoulders tense at the underlying meaning in his words. 

'Is there a problem with that? Am I in the way?'

Kibum huffed a soundless laugh, and Hyukjae could almost sense him rolling his eyes. 'Don't get me confused with yourself, Hyukjae - I have no designs on Donghae, I never did. You were always the jealous one.' Hyukjae didn't say a thing, willing himself to calm, the pain in his hand a welcome distraction. 'I do wonder, though, if Donghae would let you so close if he knew the truth about you, knew the sick things you thought about him-'

Hyukjae was known for having no patience, though. 'Stop fucking speaking.' He growled, balling his fists as the blood ran down his knuckles, puddling on the floor with soft taps. Kibum loved to get a rise out of him, and now was no different, his snarky tone continuing and making Hyukjae bristle. 

'-If he woke up in the night and saw you lying there touching yourself to thoughts about him, thinking about him in the most perverted ways-'

He turned, then, eyes furious as he took a long step towards the younger boy, wounded fist flying out to connect with Kibum's face. The younger man recoiled, grunting at the impact as he fell to the floor. He pressed a palm to the injury, smirking up at Hyukjae even though he was obviously in pain. Hyukjae's chest heaved as he breathed heavily, anger rising with every second Kibum was in his presence. The pain of his hand was a distant thought, numb in the midst of his rage even as his blunt fingernails dug into his palm.

The two of them looked up when Donghae came bursting in, and Hyukjae felt caught. 'I heared raised voices, what happened?' He blurted, alarm evident on his readable, honest features. He looked between the two of them, piecing the situation together and Hyukjae could feel Kibum staring at him expectantly, waiting to see what kind of excuse he would come up with. It was a shame he wouldn't get the satisfaction of watching him fumble for false words, Hyukjae turning on his heel and walking away without a sound, blood smeared over his skin and frustration at the boiling point. 

-

Sungmin towelled his hair off as his wet feet padded into the small bedroom the lady of the house had given them, stopping in the doorway to watch Kyuhyun's chest rise and fall from where he lay. He didn't know if the lady had given them a double mat intentionally or not, but either way it hadn't done much to bring them closer together. Nothing had developed since the shower incident, and things were awkward to say the least. They were constantly revolving around each other, never too close as if they'd comitted a crime together. He wasn't sure who was avoiding who, but it was happening quite obviously. At first he'd wondered if Kyuhyun had changed his mind, had been put off by Sungmin's inexperience in the way of sexual acts, or if he'd simply been disappointed after the mystery of touching a man was lost.

Kyuhyun would sleep with his back to him on the mat they shared, the space between them like an empty gulf in the night - a dark ocean too dangerous to cross. He'd tried not to overthink it, absorbing himself in house chores and getting closer to the girl he'd met that first night. It turned out she lived here too, and had arrived in much the same way. Her name was Amber, and she was intriguing; after a longer conversation, he'd noticed the gaps in pronunciation, the coming and going of her Seoul accent as the vowels left her lips with an odd twang. She'd confided in him that the Ahjussi wouldn't let her cut her hair, pulling at her long locks in distaste and grumbling at the feminine way she was being forced to dress.

He liked the way she sat casually, even in a dress, and the dirty jokes she'd whisper over dinner when the old woman couldn't hear. It was then that he'd catch Kyuhyun throwing sharp glances her way, and his heart would skip a beat at the evident jealousy - though Amber was of no interest to him in that way, it made him eager to test Kyuhyun, to see how much he could get him to react. He spent most of his day with the girl, finding her crazy and disarming at every turn (there wasn't anyone else to talk to, anyway, being as the old woman wouldnt let them leave the house for some bizarre reason) while Kyuhyun would wander around doing some chore or another but always watching them like a hawk. However, every night that week he still fell asleep to Kyuhyun's broad back and woke to an empty space.

He dropped the towel to rest around his shoulders, walking softly into the room after closing the door quietly behind him. The oil lamp on the floor cast golden shadows over the planes of Kyuhyun's bare back, still boyish and slender. Sungmin had been making a show of getting changed over the past few days, making sure he was stood in plain sight if Kyuhyun were to open his eyes so he could see his towel drop, see him bend to grab at his underwear - and he always slept in only that, even as the air began to cool as autumn deepened.

However, Kyuhyun hadn't stirred even once yet. Sadly, Sungmin couldn't say the same for himself; the images of their shower tryst had him moaning against the steamy tiles every night since, the only way he wouldn't accidentally stab Kyuhyun in the back during the night was by relieving the pressure in private, though he always woke to a stiffness between his legs anyway.

Clad in his briefs, he pulled back his side of the duvet, fidgeting as much as he could just to force some kind of response from the taller boy, but to no avail. It was almost too much not to sigh in frustration, and he rolled onto his side away from the other boy with a pout. He was right here, why wouldn't he touch him? If he'd thought he was sexually frustrated before, it was even worse after having the slightest taste of Kyuhyun. He was addicted and desperate for more.

He closed his eyes reluctantly, blocking out the soft glow of the lamp. He didn't feel safe in the dark even here, as if anything might come crawling from the shadows. As his body began to feel heavier, his skin grew cooler, goosebumps rising along his barfe flesh. Suddenly he felt the clamminess of cold fingers dragging up his legs, and he gasped, finding himself unable to move. His breath came in short puffs, his heart pounding in his ears as the hands climbed higher, clawing up his thighs and pulling and pinching at his skin hungrily. He opened his mouth to scream but his voice was gone, a mere breath, and his vision was black and thick. The scent of putrid flesh filled his nostrils, the sensation of someone breathing against his lips making his stomach turn before he heard the sound of teeth clicking, grinding, biting sharply into his throat.

He woke with a scream and a hand over his mouth, panicking for a moment as he thrashed wildly, but when he opened his eyes Kyuhyun came into view, holding him down and urging him to calm himself and look at him. He settled back onto the bed panting as Kyuhyun withdrew his hand from his lips with a worried frown, stroking his sweaty bangs from his face as he leaned over him. Sungmin's throat was dry, and he licked his lips as he regained his bearings.

'We're safe now,' Kyuhyun breathed groundingly, and Sungmin blinked back his tears shakily. He didn't want Kyuhyun to see him so shaken, moving to throw an arm over his face and hide his pitiful expression, but Kyuhyun pulled him to his chest tightly before he could, pressing his nose to the crown of his head and kissing his hair comfortingly. Sungmin relented to his embrace, feeling the terror subside slowly, and after his shaky breaths calmed, Kyuhyun pulled back, tilting his head to look at him. 'You okay?'

He nodded softly, embarrassed. 'Just a dream, sorry for waking you.' His voice was more rough than he thought it would be, and he cleared his throat softly. Kyuhyun simply shook his head dismissively.

'I wasn't asleep. i can't sleep.'

When Sungmin looked at him properly, he didn't miss the tiredness in his eyes, the bags beneath them. 'Why?'

Kyuhyun sighed, chewing his lip briefly before answering with reluctance. 'When I close my eyes I see myself as one of those things again, imagine myself ... feeding. I'm scared I might become like that again... I don't want to risk it with you so close to me.'

Sungmin frowned, hurt to see Kyuhyun had been feeling this way without telling him. Leaning in to kiss Kyuhyun's lips softly, he stroked at the taller boys neck soothingly. 'You won't become one of them, and you won't hurt me. I'd give my blood a thousand times over to keep you how you are now.'

Kyuhyun's eyes warmed at his words, but they quickly hardened again. 'Do you like her?' He asked abruptly, and Sungmin looked at him as if he was bizarre.

'Who?'

'The girl.'

'What, Amber?' Sungmin huffed incredulously. 'She's nice, you should talk to her more; she thinks you're mute or something.'

'You know what I mean, Min.' Kyuhyun looks startlingly insecure, a strange thing to see in the taller boy.

'Did you forget what happened in the shower?' He raised an eyebrow suggestively, and Kyuhyun gave him a seething look. Sungmin almost thought he could see a flush rising to his pale cheeks.

'We were frustrated, it's not like you've had anyone else around to do that kind of thing with.'

Sungmin rolled his eyes, tired of this, and sat up. watching as Kyuhyun looked at him with confusion and slight fear, as if he imagined Sungmin was angry or upset. He threw a leg over Kyuhyun's hip as he rolled the older boy onto his back and straddled him, not hesitating to roll his hips down hard on his pajama clad crotch. Kyuhyun's head lolled back at the sudden pressure, pale throat exposed to Sungmin's hungry eyes long enough for him to lean down and suck hard at the flesh, peppering wanton kisses between words.

'I've wanted you since we first moved into the dorm.' He rolled his hips rythmically, feeling Kyuhyun stirring beneath him as his own erection awoke, sweet heat building in his nerves. He moved from Kyuhyun's throat to bite and nip at his jaw, his lips as the taller boy watched him with half lidded eyes, pupils blown as his hands tried to find purchase anywhere, settling on Sungmin's hips and stroking feverishly at his sides. 'Coming back at night to a sock on the door and knowing some girl was in there getting what I so desperately wanted - don't insult me with jealousy, you don't know what it is.' He punctuated the sentence with a rough kiss, and Kyuhyun reciprocated eagerly, fingers scraping across Sungmin's scalp and tugging at his hair.

Their breaths were noisy and the kiss was wet and messy, teeth clicking and tongues struggling against each other. Kyuhyun pushed against him and Sungmin relented, letting the taller boy switch their positions as he spread his legs to allow Kyuhyun to settle between them. The kiss ended abrupty with a wet noise, and Sungmin felt a jolt of warmth shoot through him at the sight of Kyuhyun's red, bruised lips before they're attached to his jaw, his throat, his collarbone. 'I never knew.' He breathed against his skin, and Sungmin shivered at the sensation, nipples hardening as Kyuhyun dragged his tongue over each one in turn.

'You never looked, not until you had nothing else to look at.'

Kyuhyun stopped abruptly, and Sungmin could have whined in disappointment, looking up at the taller boy petulantly. 'You actually think that?' Kyuhyun was looking down at him with an almost hurt expression, eyes penetrating. 'There were nights where I couldn't tear my eyes away from you, where I wondered what would happen if I climbed in beside you.'

Sungmin felt weak at the revelation, distraught that so much time had gone wasted between them, that it took the end of the world to finally place them in each other's arms even though they'd been in such short reach for years. 'I wish you had.' He breathed softly, and Kyuhyun's lips were upon him once again, no longer hungry, but still passionate, as if drinking Sungmin's very soul. 

He tangled his fingers in Kyuhyun's hair and clinged to him like a man drowning, body pressing against his insistently, but he still wasn't close enough, could never be close enough. When Sungmin finally ran out of air, Kyuhyun broke away, resuming his path down Sungmin's bare skin. His abdomen dipped at the press of his warm lips, and he involuntarily bucked his hips, body eager to be touched after being starved for so long. Kyuhyun didn't make him wait, pulling his briefs off in a fluid motion, not even giving him time to feel self conscious before he was spreading his legs once again and kissing up his pale, trembling thighs.

Sungmin could only watch with parted lips and soft breaths as the taller boy worshipped him, taking him into his mouth as if taking communion; deep and slow as his long fingers teased at his hole. He reached up with his free hand, digits nudging at Sungmin's lips, and the smaller man took them into his mouth sinfully, not breaking eye contact with Kyuhyun for a moment as the taller boy watched him with dark eyes. He withdrew them with a soft pop, a trail of saliva following, and soon Sungmin was trembling at the sensation of them stretching him so completely. He'd touched himself like this before, but with someone else it was grounding, a feeling he couldn't distract himself from, shrinking the world down to the two of them in that moment. 

When Kyuhyun withdrew his fingers, Sungmin bit his lip at the sensation, watching hungrily as Kyuhyun got to his knees before him, pulling his pajamas down and off. The gasp that left Sungmin's lips was embarrassing, especially as he'd seen Kyuhyun naked plenty of times, and erect only a few days prior, but this was different. His hole clenched in anticipation at the sight of his length, tall and elegant like the man himself. He didn't hesitate to sit up, crawling forward and clutching at Kyuhyun's hips - which must have taken Kyuhyun by surprise, because he jumped abruptly at the touch of his hand. Taking Kyuhyun into his mouth boldly, a guttural moan sounded from the taller boy as his hips rolled languidly. Sungmin loved the weight of it on his tongue, the sounds he could urge Kyuhyun to make, the control it gave him, but this wasn't what he wanted. 

He slicked the taller boys cock with saliva as much as he could before pulling off, gasping, gripping the base as he pressed the tip to his lips teasingly. 'Fuck me,' he breathed against the sensitive flesh, and Kyuhyun let out a shaky breath, pushing Sungmin's shoulder back to lie him down once again. He was surprised when the younger man turned him onto his front, pulling his hips up and pressing his face into the pillows, but his thoughts flew out of the window at the heat between his cheeks, the wet head of Kyuhyun's cock suddenly prying him open. Biting down on the pillow through the sensation, he was startled to find himself enjoying the burn, precum dripping from his cock where it hung heavily between his legs. 

Kyuhyun spread him open with one hand, the other smoothing up and down his back back comfortingly; he was going too slowly, too carefully, and Sungmin pushed back suddenly, drving him in to the hilt. With a shout of surprise, quick, sharp moans quickly poured from Kyuhyun's lips, his thighs shaking against the back of Sungmin's, and Sungmin blinked away the tears from the sudden pain. Clenching compulsively to adjust to the stretch, he focused on Kyuhyun as he pressed kisses to the back of his neck urgently, as if distracting himself from the tightness around his cock. Feeling a hand wrap around his aching cock, Sungmin jumped, unintentionally jostling Kyuhyun's length and causing a spark of pleasure to run through him, gasping into the pillow. Kyuhyun began to move then, and Sungmin wished he could see his expression, match the sounds he was making to the look on his face. 

The delicious drag and pull, the sound of skin against skin and the way Kyuhyun breathed his name was making him see stars, but the taller boy pulled out suddenly and Sungmin whined at the sudden loss, every muscle spasming at the odd sensation of being empty. It was barely a second, though, before the taller boy was pushing him roughly onto his back and filling him once again, pulling his legs over his hips and spreading him so wide it would hurt if Sungmin wasn't so aroused. If it felt good before, it was ecstacy now, finally seeing how kyuhyun looked in the throes of pleasure. He'd thought Kyuhyun would have had his eyes closed, but they were fixed upon him, drinking in the sight of him. 

Sungmin always imagined of himself that he'd be shy in the face of such attention, but he blossomed beneath it, the urge to give kyuhyun something to look at taking hold as he ran his tongue over his blushing lips slowly, eyebrows knitted in bliss. He stroked his hands up and down his own chest before wrapping one around his neglected cock, the other moving down to where Kyuhyun was fucking him, feeling the wetness and the heat as he stroked himself hard, head thrashing in ecstacy. 

Kyuhyun had his lip caught between his teeth, hips snapping diligently in the perfect way, enough to make sungmin shift up the sheets with every thrust. He was too loud, too wanton, but he was caught in the moment and the pleasure was blinding. His cock was dripping, his hand coated in pre-cum, and the noise of their copulation was obscene, turning him on to the point of agony. 'Kyuhyun, fuck.' He almost cried, and the taller boy folded him almost in half as he leaned in to kiss him messily, filthily. Thrusting haphazardly as he bit at Sungmin's lips, Kyuhyun came hard, face contorted in pure ecstacy to the point it looked like pain, and Sungmin felt his own climax wash over him abruptly, clenching around Kyuhyun's throbbing cock and milking him slowly as they rocked against each other without rhythm, gasping nothing against each others mouths and gripping each other wildly. 

All Sungmin could feel after that was utter numbness, bliss, limbs loose as Kyuhyun's lips pressed to his skin lazily. He let Kyuhyun readjust him, thighs burning when they returned to a natural position, and he felt himself sinking into the matress and away to a rich, deep sleep, missing the soft exhalation of words from the taller boy. 

'I love you.'

-  
Jungsu didn't take the news as badly as Heechul had thought he would, listening calmly rather than panicking. It was when Hankyung had finally reached the end of their long tale that he pulled Heechul into his thin arms, throwing Hankyung a look over Heechul's shoulder. 

'You better fix him, I won't forgive you if you dont.'

It was later that Jungsu insisted they bring Youngwoon's body inside, and Hankyung relented, though he agreed with Heechul that he should be kept in the cellar, that the door couldn't be opened by anyone but himself. Heechul knew Hankyung didn't trust him not to kill the man, and they obviously couldn't trust Jungsu alone down there - it was too dangerous. Honestly, Heechul was against the idea of him coming inside at all, but Jungsu had sat beside the window all morning, insisting that he could see his chest rising and falling slightly. Hankyung had confirmed it, and Heechul had bit his lip for Jungsu's sake. 

He didn't really understand what all the fuss was about, really. Even if Youngwoon was breathing, he was dead either way. However, if it gave Jungsu comfort, then he'd do anything.

That was how he ended up lugging Youngwoon's heavy body down to the cellar, Hankyung holding his feet while Heechul held him around the chest. Hankyung had reasoned that Heechul should be closer to the danger of his upper body, being as he was already infected and all. As smart as that sounded, Heechul still didn't want to be bitten, tying a cloth around Youngwoon's mouth to gag him anyway. The stench down emenating from the cellar was vile and thick, and Heechul gagged slightly, turning his head to press his nose into his shirt. Hankyung's face was screwed up sourly, too, as he choked on the air. 

They threw Youngwoon down onto the creaky blood stained bed, and for a moment all they could do was look around in mute horror, taking in the scratches on the door, the blood from within the cupboard. There was a dead body, a girl, lying on the floor, and Heechul heaved dryly at the sight. Her skin was barely clinging to her bones, thin lips stretched over her teeth in an agonised grimace. 

'I guess that's how Youngwoon got infected.' Hankyung stated calmly, and Heechul was baffled once again at how Hankyung took things in his stride so easily. 'We should take her outside and burn her; it's not good to have this polluting the air. I don't know how we didn't smell it upstairs.' 

Heechul didn't even try and hide his reluctance, pulling an assortment of miserable faces, though he knew Hankyung was right. They lingered for a moment, though, as Hankyung sat down on the saturated mattress, looking over Youngwoon briefly. He pressed the back of his hand to Youngwoon's forehead, recoiling suddenly.

'What's wrong?' 

'He's hot- he's sweating.' Hankung actually seemed ruffled for a moment, going silent in thought. Heechul couldn't really see why it was so astounding.

'That's just the virus taking hold, right? He's taking a fucking long time to die, though.'

Hankyung doesn't reply, utterly still as his eyes flickered here and there, a pensive expression on his face before he fixed his eyes upon Heechul with a sudden intensity. 'I don't think he's dying, Heechul, I think he's fighting the virus.'

'What does that mean?' 

'It means your cure might be lying right here.'

-

Zhoumi awoke to a rucus outside, the sound of raised voices and moving vehicles. Reaching out blearily for his glasses, he sat up, blinking a few times as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the room. Stretching out with a groan, he got to his feet with a stumble. He and Henry had been dragged off without a parting word to Sungmin and Kyuhyun, and a whole week had passed since they'd been separated. The small family looking after them refused to let them leave, insisting they weren't well enough and that they needed food and rest. Zhoumi was thankful, as was Henry, but he also had the sneaking suspicion they just wanted some help around the house. 

He hadn't had the heart to tell them what had happened to them, and he and Henry had quickly agreed to play the foreigner card, answering any difficult questions with stumbling Korean and insisting they didn't understand what they were being asked. It seemed many of the people here hadn't heard from their children or grandchildren since everything went wrong, and more and more people from the city had been turning up, apparently, over the past few months. Their stories were 'fanatical' and 'inane', the general consensus being that the city air was so bad that it was driving people crazy - another reason they were being kept inside, so they wouldn't be shocked and caught ill by the fresh air. Villiage people were... strange. 

Henry was still asleep next to him on the mat they were sharing, face puffy with sleep. The kid was fattening up fast, though Zhoumi didnt blame him; being in the gas station hadn't been too bad, they had snacks and tinned foods to pick away at, but he knew if Kyuhyun hadnt come along they'd have starved by now. 

Walking to the window, Zhoumi pulled the curtain aside and squinted at the brightness of the day. There were hundreds of people crowded in the narrow street outside; men in camoflague with combat boots and guns, tanks and vans and motorbikes crawling through the parting sea of people. The villiagers were staring in wonder and fear, and the soldiers looked battered and bruised as they shouted commands. Relief ran through him and left in a gust of a sigh, overjoyed to see some control and order, the fact the army still existed like a balm to his anxious soul. 

Stumbling over to Henry, he shook him roughly. 'Wake up, wake up.' He hissed, and Henry grumbled sleepily, frowning up at him through barely open eyes. 'You need to see this.'

\- 

Donghae had watched the tension between Kibum and Hyukjae build over the past months; he wasn't blind, as he sometimes felt people thought him to be. Hyukjae didn't meet his eyes anymore, and though he was always somewhere nearby, he was rarely interacting with him. He wondered what happened between the two of them - Kibum and Hyuk - to cause such an atmosphere. Maybe it was something to do with the cut on Hyukjae's head from when he fell, if he was still wrong and messed up because of it. 

He sat on the steps at the back door, feeling the warmth of the Autumn sun on his face while he stroked a shaggy neighbourhood dog. It lay at his feet lazily, eyes closed as it soaked up his attention. 

'Hey.' He looked up as Kibum appeared beside him, perching to sit with him as he smiled easily.

'Hey.' The younger boy stretched his legs out, calling the dog over to him but it barely twitched an ear. 

'It's funny isn't it, how these people are just going about life like nothings happened.' He said whistfully, watching some kids run past the house excitedly. Donghae nodded, sighing. 

'They didn't believe us when we told them what happened.' 

'Yeah they didn't listen to me either, said it was the city air fogging me up. I guess it's for the best, they have family out there... half of these kids parents work in the cities around here, too. I doubt they'll ever see them again.'

Donghae felt sad all of a sudden, wondering if things would ever go back to normal, if they ever could after so much loss. 'I wish I could just turn on the tv and watch the news, see if anywhere else has survived.' Kibum hummed in agreement, reaching over to scratch behind the dogs floppy ears. 'This might sound bizarre, but are you and Hyukjae ok?' Donghae asked bluntly, not missing the way Kibum looked at him quickly before averting his eyes.

'What do you mean?'

'I noticed it the day we got here, but it's hard to ignore now. You're never in the same room together, and he's... distant from me now.' 

Kibum sighed deeply, seeming to think something over for a while before he spoke slowly. 'Donghae, I'm going to tell you something I've been keeping to myself for a while... it's... pretty strange, and Hyukjae can't find out.'

Donghae was puzzled, but nodded anyway. 'You can tell me anything, Kibum.' The younger boy nodded, shifting where he sat as if to get more comfortable in the wake of a long story. 

'In the woods that night, Hyuk tripped me on purpose.' Donghae took a moment to digest the words coming from Kibum's mouth, unable to believe it. 

'Why would he do that?' Kibum smirked, shaking his head. 

'Who knows what's going through his head sometimes.' Donghae couldn't shift the frown from his face, still reeling from the information, but Kibum continued. 'It's more than that, though. I... I fell, my ankle was broken. There were so many of those things I couldn't even crawl away - I can still feel their teeth ripping at my skin.' 

Donghae's eyes were wide in shock, finding it hard to absorb whatever Kibum was trying to tell him. 'There was gunfire, though, in the midst of the pain. The army was clearing out the woods, they must have thought I'd been shot, too, they ran right past me. It hurt so bad - not the bites, but whatever virus those things carry, like burning in my veins. I must have been lying there for hours, I couldn't even feel the cold, I couldn't feel anything but that fucking burning; it was like I was on fire. I just knew I had to push through it, go somewhere. I dragged myself through the woods, and the weirdest thing happened.'

He paused, and Donghae waited for whatever he would say next, gripped. Kibum had a way of speaking that drew you in and kept you captivated. 

'There was a guy I knew from one of my classes going by, and I thought he was okay at first. Obviously I screamed out to him for help, but when he came closer I saw half of his neck was gone. I screamed my fucking lungs out but he just stopped and looked right through me... as if he couldnt see me. He just wandered off. I passed out after that, but when I woke up again I felt like I had a fever, like a really bad fever - but it still wasn't the burning I felt before, it was more managable. I managed to stand up but I was sweating like crazy and it took me so long to get out of there. I went from place to place limping, eventually made a crutch out of some wood and shit, I don't know... it was all a blur, but the fever subsided and it was just normal pain after that - the pain of my ankle. The bites stung, but they were healing. I followed the train tracks all the way up here and somebody fixed my ankle - still aches, though. Don't think we'll be playing football together any time soon.' He ended lightly with an empty chuckle, and Donghae stared back at him like he was mad. 

'Are you joking?' 

'I wish I was. I think there's something in me that resists the virus, look.' He pulled his shirt up, revealing scars covering his torso on both sides. 'They're completely healed, I'm not lying to you.' Donghae moved to speak, but his breath stopped short in his lungs when he saw Hyukjae standing behind them, wide eyed. 

'Well, that changes things.'

\--

Jungsu went lightheaded, feeling the soup he'd just eaten threatening to come back up. 'What do you mean he's getting better?' 

Heechul looked guilty where he sat beside him at the table, and Hankyung cleared his throat. 'Youngwoon... he's fighting the virus. He's been unconscious this whole time but it looks like he's coming out of it. He said your name in his sleep when I visited him earlier.' Jungsu could barely believe what he was hearing, frowning at the two of them accusatorily. 

'Why didnt you tell me?' 

'If we were wrong, how would you feel?' Heechul snapped bluntly, but his eyes were pitiful, 'If we'd told you, you'd be down there all the time. We - I - needed you to eat, to be yourself again.'

Jungsu felt tears build and sting his eyes, frustrated even if Heechul was making sense. 'You're telling me that Youngwoon is down there in that dirty, mouldy pit and you're only just telling me?'

Hankyung's tone was calm and matter-of-fact. 'We're bringing him upstairs today. I needed to make sure he was improving rather than getting worse, you know we're not in the wrong here, Jungsu. This is a good thing - for you and Heechul. His blood could cure Heechul.' Jungsu was taken aback, eyes darting over to Heechul in wonder. 

'How is that possible?'

'I'm still figuring it out, honestly... if we had the right equiptment I might be able to work on something, but not here. It's crucial Youngwoon recovers.'

Jungsu's mind was blown, but he nodded seriously. 'What do I need to do in the meantime?' 

'Get your strength up, thats all.'

He flinched, offended. 'I'm not made of porcelain, I can be useful - I survived out there for months.' 

Hankyung raised an eyebrow, and Jungsu felt patronised. 'You were with Youngwoon, and on the move. This house is as safe as it's gonna get, the street is empty, we have enough food for at least a month. There's nothing else we can do but wait and get ourselves back in the right state of mind.'

Jungsu wanted to fight against Hankyung's words but he knew he was right, instead sighing and shovelling his food into his mouth. The first week had been hard - eating again. Every bite had made him nauseous, but now his stomach could take it again; there was colour to his skin and Heechul had cut his hair in the style it used to be, short with swept bangs, no longer dark and greasy but the honey almond colour he was known for. Heechul sighed, rocking back and forth in his chair. 

'There's something bizarrely boring about being safe, you know.' He grumbled, and Jungsu had known Heechul long enough to see how anxious he'd been growing, how restless he was becoming. His colour was draining more every day, his eyes no longer the deep brown of before but now almost grey. His short temper was even shorter, often snapping at Hankyung over the tiniest things. Time was running out. 'Though I can't imagine how boring it must have been travelling around with only Youngwoon for company.'

Jungsu rolled his eyes at Heechul's teasing. 'It wasn't just us, we met Hyukjae and Donghae on the way.' Heechul's chair returned to the ground with a slam as he leaned forward suddenly.

'They're still alive?' 

'I don't know anymore, they left us one night and didn't come back.' 

Heechul grimaced, leaning his head on his palm. 'I wonder who else is still alive. You know, I've only just wondered about my family, is that selfish?' 

Hankyung set his chopsticks down softly, collected as always, before crossing his arms and leaning back thoughtfully. 'I've given up hoping my mother is alright... she's too far away for me to even try and find her.' Jungsu felt a surge of pity for the Chinese man - atleast he and Heechul had a chance of bumping into their families once more, but there was a sea seperating Hankyung and his mother. 

'What was she like?' Jungsu asked softly, and Heechul gazed at Hankyung in anticipation, as if he couldn't wait to find out something about the quiet, reserved man. Jungsu wondered how much Heechul actually knew about Hankyung. 

'She's... she was the kindest person you'd ever meet. She practically threw me out the house when I tried to put her before my studies and stay in China. Even without my dad she managed to save enough money to get me through for a short while, and my childhood was never impoverished or wanting.' Hankyung's face looked softer in reflection, and Jungsu could see why Heechul might have fallen for him - he wasn't always a robot.

'Maybe you'll see her again.' Hankyung only smiled briefly. 

'Maybe.' He uttered before standing and collecting their plates, retreating to the kitchen and leaving Heechul and Jungsu alone. Heechul watched Hankyung leave until the man was out of sight, slowly turning to look at Jungsu. 

'That's the most personal information I've gotten out of him since we were back at the mall.' Jungsu raised an eyebrow, and Heechul scowled. 'Don't look at me like that.' 

'Like what?' 

'Like I'm an ass.'

'All I'm saying is that all I did was ask and he spoke, maybe you should try that approach.'

Heechul stood up and thwacked Jungsu softly round the back of the head as he passed him, grumbling. 'Thank you for your wisdom, I've been so lost without it.'

-

Kyuhyun was roused by a gentle knock at the door. Blurry from sleep he found his body was heavier than usual, and looked to see Sungmin wrapped around him like an octopus. He untangled his limbs as gently as he could, shuffling naked to the door. Cracking it open slightly, Amber looked back at him impatiently. 

'Yeah?' He rasped, and Amber gave him an incredulous look. 

'Have you seriously slept through all this noise?' She asked bluntly, and Kyuhyun frowned, rubbing at his eyes. 

'What on Earth are you talking about?' 

She clicked her tongue, rolling her eyes. 'Look outside then come downstairs - preferably wearing clothes.' She punctuated the demand with a quick look up and down and he realised the door was now a lot wider, revealing more flesh than he'd intended. She walked away and he slammed the door abruptly, flustered, and frowned, dragging his fingers through his messy hair as he wandered over to the window, pulling on his briefs on the way. Tugging back the curtain, he blinked at the brightness before his eyes focused on the rabble below, the heaving streets filled with various vehicles, army men, ambulances, wide eyed villiagers and hundreds of people carrying backpacks. 

He took in the sight for a while, piecing things together. So, there was still some authority in place. That wasn't always a good thing. If things went under martial law, there'd be no freedom - many things could be excused under the idea of protection. If they found out Sungmin had the cure... they'd test on him endlessly. There was no comfort for Kyuhyun to find in this new addition to the community, only a new threat.

-

Jungsu danced the pads of his fingers over Youngwoon's sweaty forehead softly before dabbing at it with a wet cloth, his leathery, clammy hand clasped tightly in his own. He was upstairs now, in the single room he'd previously been staying in while Heechul and Hankyung took the double; the same room Youngwoon had held him lovingly, then roughly. Heechul had supervised his visits all week, keeping suspicious eyes trained on him incase Youngwoon awoke, but now he was trusted to be alone, Hankyung having confirmed he was definitely getting better rather than worse. 

Youngwoon's eyes had opened a few times, blurry and unfocused, but he hadn't said anything, only mumbled nonsense before falling back into his almost comatose state. He looked different to how he'd been by the fireside, the veins and the pallid tone of his skin almost entirely faded from him and making him look like himself again. Hankyung was on the road, searching for a nearby hospital and scouting it out before they moved in. He'd left Heechul behind despite his bitching - Jungsu agreed and could see why. 

His friend was weak, and seeing Hankyung's increased portion size at dinner and the scars on his neck that just didn't seem to be healing as fast as before, it seemed Heechul was needing more to sustain himself, and even then he was a ghost of who he was before; losing time and staring off into space. Jungsu couldn't look him in the eyes anymore, not with that disturbing blue staring back. He'd almost lost Youngwoon, he couldn't loose Heechul too - not after finally finding him again. 

A floorboard creaked behind him, and he jumped, turning quickly to see Heechul leaning against the doorframe. He didn't look real, too still and sombre to be anything more than a doll.

'Have you had any sleep?' He croaked, and Jungsu shook his head guiltily. 'He won't die if you close your eyes, Jungsu. Your body needs to rest.'

'I could say the same for you - I can hear you walking around at night.'

'That's different.'

'How?'

'You know I get nightmares.' It was true, he'd always been plagued by them - night terrors that set him to stumbling around the dorms aimlessly and scaring the life out of anyone that might bump into him in the night. For some reason, Jungsu felt that whatever Heechul was going through now was a whole lot worse than whatever had been haunting him before.

'What do you see?' He asked softly, and Heechul reluctantly peeled himself away from the door frame, coming to sit on the window ledge as the warm air blew his hair around. 

'I'm... one of those things. We're in the dorms and there's blood everywhere and it's because of me. I can't stop and you're screaming and Hankyung has a gun to my head.'

'Christ, Chul.' Jungsu breathed, hurt to see the pained expression on Heechul's face as he closed his eyes against the memory. He wished there was a way to take away his pain, to remove the virus from his veins. He'd wished the same thing a million times, long before Heechul was infected. There was always something eating at him, even back then, something Jungsu could do nothing about. 'Have you told Hankyung?'

'I don't want him to worry. He has enough shit to deal with.'

'That doesn't sound like you.' 

Heechul cocked an eyebrow, 'Maybe I'm becoming more accomodating and caring as death consumes me.' 

'I don't know what I'd do if you stopped being the sulky spoiled brat I've grown to love.' Jungsu smiled honestly, teasing in the way they always teased each other. Having Heechul around was a true comfort, a rock to hold on to when the current came too strong and tried to wash him away.

'You'd be lost without me.' Heechul snarked, but the smug smile left his lips quickly, and Jungsu could imagine what thoughts were running through his mind - that he had already been lost without him, so lost he'd nearly died.

'We'll be okay, Heechul.' He whispered earnestly, causing his friend to look at him searchingly, 'We'll be just fine.'

Heechul's eyes grew soft, shiny with tears, but they jumped away from him abruptly, growing wide and startled. Jungsu barely breathed a question before he understood his reaction, the large hand he'd been clasping suddenly twitching and closing around his fingers.

'Jungsu?'


	11. Eleven

Youngwoon hadn't stayed conscious for long, the only words from his lips being Jungsu's name, but just that small moment seemed to spur Jungsu to life again. While Hankyung felt they should wait a little longer to recouperate, Jungsu insisted they make a move now. He needed medicines, somewhere he could set up an IV, medical equipment, and eventually Hankyung relented. His agreement wasn't for Youngwoon's sake, but Heechul didn't say a word. The three of them stocked the van in a matter of hours, carrying Youngwoon's dead-weight into the back and laying him on the matress under Jungsu's watchful gaze. By the time the sky had gone from red to a deep purple, Hankyung's palms were resting on the wheel and Heechul's feet were on the dashboard.

The plan didn't sit well with Heechul. Hankyung had scouted out the nearest facility just a few miles out, luring the straggling undead away from the gates strategically and methodically without a word to Heechul or Jungsu. He'd warned them there might still be a small scuffle on their hands with any undead left behind, but that wasn't Heechul's issue. 

'Why are we going back to where this all started? Even if it's a different place, it's the same idea... the same danger. Won't they test on us again? Why would they help us?' 

Hankyung twisted the keys in the ignition, bringing the van to life as it grunted and groaned. 'It's our only option. I'll protect you - all of you, with my life if it comes down to that, but from what I could see it's been abandoned. I haven't seen anybody enter or leave, day or night.'

'Then what's the point if there's no one there to help us?'

'We need equipment, files, research. I've thought about it and Youngwoon's blood won't be enough. Sungmin and Kyuhyun were a match and they'd been synthesised to work that way; Youngwoon is fresh, untampered with. It will take more, something invasive, to make a cure.' His voice grew quieter, low enough that Jungsu wouldn't hear. 'We probably need his spinal fluid, raw DNA. I can't remember enough from the files before, I need more information.'

Heechul felt his hope wane with every word, leaning his head against the window and tapping his fingers on the glass. 'Invasive. So that means surgery, right? Jungsu isn't a surgeon, he's not even a doctor, and you certainly don't have the skill to do it.'

Hankyung could only sigh tiredly, 'It's all we have.'

Night fell, and Heechul managed to convince Jungsu into resting for a few hours, relief flooding him when his stubborn eyelids finally drooped from exhaustion and his tired head sank into the pillow. He sat back in the passenger seat, watching Hankyung's silhouette in the dark, illuminated only by the moonlight and the faint reflection of the headlamps. His eyes were focused on the black road ahead of them, a triangle of light from the headlamps the only thing visible.

'I never asked...' He began, and Hankyung raised an eyebrow.

'Asked what?'

'What they did to you. I just kind of accepted the things i couldn't understand... I had too much of my own shit to deal with. But you're different. too. aren't you?'

It was quiet for a moment before Hankyung responded, and Heechul pulled his knees to his chest, leaning against the window and watching his mouth move. 'I don't feel the same way anymore. I don't know exactly what they did... I'm just... stronger. I metabolise faster, I heal faster, but somethings wrong in my head. I feel detached, I can't make myself care about anything...' He glanced at Heechul briefly before focusing on the road once again, a breath leaving his lips. 'Anything but you.'

The last part was a whisper, but Heechul heard it, his chest tightening at his words. 'Why don't you need to feed?'

'The same way Sungmin doesn't need to feed, I don't know how it all works. Kyuhyun needed Sungmin in small doses to keep him pliant and useful... I guess they tried to treat you with what they gave Sungmin, but your body must have rejected it or transformed it in some way. I can't fix you, not the way Sungmin could fix Kyuhyun, but I can sustain you. They injected me with your blood, I can hear you, sense you. Maybe I was made as a safeguard, to keep you from becoming Kyuhyun and to stop you if you ever did.'

Heechul absorbed Hankyung's words slowly, frowning, but he didn't know what to say in response. They were in over their heads, it was apparent  with every day that passed, every slice of information Hankung revealed. 'We should stop, we've been driving too long and we're both exhausted.'

'We need to get there.'

Heechul sighed wearily, voice soft and pleading. 'We will. Rest Hankyung, we've already had one car crash, let's not do it again.'

Hankyung slowed the van, pulling up to the side of the road and turning out the lights, plunging them into darkness. Heechul could hear his breaths, and his voice was a whisper when he finally broke the silence. 'When this is done, what are you going to do?'

'What do you mean?'

'Where will you go?'

Heechul shrugged, thrown off by the conversation and affronted by his own lack of answers. Where would he go? Before Jungsu had turned up he was just following Hankyung blindly, but now he realised he actually needed some direction, somewhere Jungsu could be safe. 'I don't know, wherever we end up.'

'We?'

'Yes, we!' Heechul felt frustration rise at Hankyung's blank, dull questions. 'Me, you, Jungsu... Youngwoon if we must. Where did you think I'd go? Where would you go?'

'I didn't know if you'd want me to stick around. Like you said, you don't know me. You said before that it was your blood that kept you with me, when you're back to normal what reason would you have to stay with me?'

Heechul scoffed, hurt, though he felt an ache of guilt for making Hankyung assume something like that. His words always turned out thornier than he intended. 'I wanted you back at the mall, there was nothing to keep me with you but I stayed, isn't that enough?'

Hankyung took a moment to respond, and the silence was heavy as were his next words. 'I love you. I feel nothing, but I know that.' Heechul's breath caught for a moment, and he stared at Hankyung's silhouette in the moonlight, watching the darkness unmovingly, unblinkingly. 'Is that okay with you?'

Every fiber of Heechul's being felt uncomfortable, unknowing of how to respond to such a proclamation, and he cringed away from it, curling up in his seat and closing his eyes.

'Sleep, Hankyung. This might be the last time we can.'

-

Every day that passed after the army moved in, Kyuhyun's chest itched more and more. It was psychological, of course, but the scar where Zhoumi had shot him still remained, a reminder, a target. Security was tight and it was nearly impossible to move without being watched, dangerous eyes following your every move.

It was over dinner that Amber uncorked Kyuhyun's bottled up frustrations. She shovelled food into her mouth gracelessly, eyes cheerful as she proclaimed her happiness over seeing the military, her joy at being assigned a job and how useful it made her feel after so long doing nothing. Kyuhyun's chopsticks splintered in his fist, his voice low and dangerous.

'Are you stupid?'

'If you're such a genius, enlighten me.' She quipped, pointing at him rudely, and Sungmin stifled a snicker. Even without the threat of holding Sungmin's affections, she still got on Kyuhyun's last nerve.

'If the army catches even a hint of infection all hell will break loose and no one will survive. We know, the same thing happened at our college. We shouldn't trust them.'

Amber's taunting smirk had faded, and she watched Kyuhyun steadily. 'Why are you so scared?'

Kyuhyun stared back blankly before resuming his meal with a stormy expression, and Sungmin answered her instead, to Kyuhyun's chagrin.

'We may be in danger.'

'Sungmin-'

The smaller man continued despite Kyuhyun's sharp look of warning, divulging every second of their journey; the mall, the tests, how they got there. Their meals were finished by the time he was done, but Amber looked incredulous, unbelieving, and Kyuhyun rolled his eyes. Pulling his shirt up, he exposed the mottled scar over his heart, watching her expression of confusion turn to one of horror.

'I should be dead.' He muttered, 'And if the army finds me, if the doctors experiment on us, we'll be worse than dead.'

Amber took a moment, folding her hands before her on the small table before she regarded them both seriously. 'What's the plan? There's nowhere to go.'

'We have two options.' Sungmin sighed. 'I could offer myself up, maybe even cure this plague...'

'Or?'

'We can run.'

She smirked, nodding her head mirthfully. 'I know which option sounds more exciting.'

-

They'd parked two cars in a field beyond the patrol of the military, filled with supplies and bedding and makeshift weapons. However, they couldn't plan for everything. The military had enforced a curfew, and everyone was assigned numbers, tasks. Kyuhyun and Sungmin spent each day cleaning the guns, the boots, the jeeps, and Amber had been taken to work in the kitchens and clean the camp. While Kyuhyun and Sungmin would return home each day... Amber never came back. A week earlier than they'd planned to escape, they were ordered out of the house into the town square, the whole villiage stood in line before the town hall. Once again, Kyuhyun scratched at his scar nervously, because something wasn't right.

He stood in line with Sungmin, and his anxiety waned slightly when Henry and Zhoumi joined them, though they looked far from their usual cheerful selves. For the first time in a week they saw Amber again, but her sneaky smile was gone, thinner than before with bruises on her neck she couldn't hide from Kyuhyun's eyes. A girl stood beside her, seeming even more harrowed than Amber, staring at the ground without a word.

Sungmin pulled Amber into a hug, asking her questions she shied away from, and Kyuhyun caught some more familiar faces up ahead. Hyukjae, Donghae and Kibum were closer to the front of the line, and he watched with anticipation as Kibum entered the building. Zhoumi and Henry were chattering, but Kyuhyun's mind was elsewhere, fingers tapping against his thigh in a nervous rhythm, nerves alight as he prepared to flee at any second.

He was drawn from his thoughts by a warm hand slipping into his own, Sungmin smiling softly up at him, and Kyuhyun could only squeeze his palm in return, fixing his eyes ahead once again. Kibum didn't take long to return, standing beside his friends again and shrugging, however when Hyukjae entered, he returned within minutes, pointing directly at Kibum as a soldier followed. 

'Him, he's the one.'

The soldier took Kibum's arm, and he looked at Hyukjae in wild confusion, trying to shrug off the soldiers grip, to which guns were drawn and Kyuhyun's blood ran cold. He turned abruptly, pushing through the crowd with Sungmin's hand gripped tightly in his own, pulling him along as his feet pounded through the small alleyways and back streets. He didn't care who followed, as long as he could feel Sungmin's hand in his own. Shouts followed behind them, but as his feet hit grass they faded to distant murmurs, but still he didn't stop.

He collided with the car, unable to halt his feet he was running so fast, and Sungmin crashed into him moments later, breathless and frightened. His hands shook wildly as he unlocked the car, adrenaline pumping in his veins, and threw himself inside, Sungmin collapsing in the passenger seat with wide eyes. The doors opened behind him as he twisted the key in the ignition, and a quick turn of his head revealed Zhoumi and Henry jumping in looking red faced and bewildered.

Kyuhyun checked the direction they'd ran from, seeing Amber pounding across the field with her friend in tow, Hyukjae dragging a reluctant Donghae with him also. He didn't wait for them to get in the other car, reversing at lightning speed and spinning them around before jetting off down the dirt road as his heart hammered in his chest.

When they were well enough away, he glanced in his rearview mirror to see the other car following steadily and no sign of anybody coming after them. Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief, sparing a glance at Sungmin as he rested his head against the window, eyes wide.

'We had to.'

'I know.'

'What if you could have saved us all?' Henry asked timidly, and Sungmin just sighed tiredly.

'I'm not a lab rat. They could've made a cure before, but they tried to make monsters instead. This is my life, I'm going to live whatevers left of it, and I'm thankful I can live it with you guys.'

Zhoumi smiled at the sentiment, but his shoulders gave a small disheartened shrug. 'Where do we go from here, though? What do we do?'

Sungmin grey silent, but Kyuhyun knew there was only one thing they could do from now on.

'We survive.'

-

Every time Youngwoon's eyes would flutter open, Jungsu's heart would skip a beat. Anger, love, hurt, confusion, every emotion ran through him and he was in limbo, adrift and lost within himself. The van rocked and swayed him, jostled Youngwoon's hand as he clutched it in his own, and he could feel the sweat on his palm from his worsening fever. When he finally allowed himself rest, at Heechul's persistence, he couldn't lie beside Youngwoon, curling up beside his feet and fighting the thoughts of his clammy hands upon his aching, bruised flesh.

He knew there was no forgiveness left within him. Things would never be the same.

-

It was dawn when they finally brought the van to a slow stop, pale light illuminating the wrought iron gate before them. The bars were warped, bent out of shape by the thousands of bloody hands that had pulled and groped at them, wide enough the Hankyung had no doubts that a few undead must have managed to get inside. 

He didn't have to wake Heechul, the mans eyes opening groggily at the slowing of the vehicle, and Hankyung tentatively smoothed a hand over his knee in comfort. A small smile appeared on his lips in return, but his eyes fell upon the gate in defeat. 

'Did you plan how we'd be getting inside?' He raised an eyebrow, scraping his hair back and out of his eyes tiredly. 

'There's a gap-'

'And if it's infested in there? We won't be able to get out fast enough - especially with Youngwoon.'

'We'll find a way.'

Heechul snickered, rolling his eyes. 'People used to say I was all bravado and false confidence, but you're on another level.' It could have been a taunt, an invitation to argue, but the look in Heechul's eyes as he said it was far from angry or frustrated. He simply looked exhausted.

A groan sounded from the back of the van, and from the darkness emerged a rumpled, sleepy Jungsu, glaring at the brightness coming in through the windscreen. He stood between their seats for a moment, simply staring out there, until his eyes filled with fear and he crouched. 'Someone's coming.'

'Someone?' Heechul asked, perplexed. Surely he meant some _thing_ ; however, when Hankyung followed his gaze, he too was thrown. A group of boys cycled towards them, skidding to a halt before the gates and drawing weapons. 

'Get out.' One of them shouted from the centre of the group, and Hankyung counted four of them. He shrugged at Heechul, who pulled a face of sheer puzzlement. Opening the door, he jumped too the ground, raising his palms in surrender, and he heard Heechul's feet hitting the concrete moments later. The boys didn't lower their guns, though, and the boy in the centre spoke again. 'There's three of you, don't fuck with me.' 

Hankyung could've laughed, but instead looked at Jungsu, who was still crouching, and nodded for him to join them. He looked terrified, eyes searching to figure out what Hankyung's plan was, but honeslty he didn't have one. He just knew these kids wouldn't shoot.

'We just need medicine.' He announced. 'Nobody needs to get hurt.'

'People have been hurt over smaller things than that.' The boy warned, pulling down the scarf covering his face and lowering his gun, though his friends remained still. He had sharp features and a feral smile, though he couldn't have been more than eighteen. Hankyung wasn't intimidated. 'Kneel with your hands behind your head.'

Hankyung complied easily, and two of the boys got off their bikes, heaving the gate open before running out and roughly binding Hankyung's hands, restraining Heechul and Jungsu in a rush. He couldn't see Heechul from where he was knelt, but he could easily assume he wasn't happy about it.

As they were led inside, their vehicle purring behind them as one of the boys brought it into the compound, he heard Heechul muttering miserably beside him.

'Nothings ever simple with us, is it?'

-

Donghae trembled in his seat, eyes wide as they drove after Kyuhyun and the others. The car was silent, one of the girls staring blankly out of the window while the other caught her breath. Hyukjae focused on the road, and Donghae was brought back to how it was before, when they'd abandoned Youngwoon and Jungsu, the look in Hyukjae's eyes back then. It frightened him to his core, and his mind reeled. 

What had just happened? One moment Kibum was smiling, talking to him calmly about how there was nothing to worry about, and the next there were hands pulling him away and guns drawn. The look in Kibum's eyes was haunting, betrayed once again, and just like before Donghae couldn't say a word because Hyukjae was already tugging on his hand and dragging him away. He could still hear his voice shouting after them, the screams of the startled crowd ringing in his ears.

'What did you say to them?' Donghae's voice shook, staring Hyukjae down as he drove on and ignored his question. Donghae was tired of being patient, tired of seeing his friends hurt when he was standing right there, close enough and willing to help. He was tired of secrets. ' _What did you tell them?_ '

Hyukjae furrowed his brows, shocked by Donghae's raised voice. 'I told them the truth.' He said in a weak voice, and Donghae felt his blood boil at the pathetic answer, but Hyukjae continued. 'I told them what happened to him - that he was immune... I was trying to help.'

'Bullshit.' Donghae spat, tears in his eyes.

'Hae-'

'Bullshit, Hyuk!' He cried, 'You knew they'd take him, what's your game? I know you sabotaged Kibum in the woods, what did he do to deserve this? Why are we running when we were perfectly safe? I don't understand any of this!'

'We're free.' A soft voice cut through the tension, jarring in contrast to Donghae's impassioned tone, and they all glanced at the quiet girl in confusion.

Donghae wiped at his face in frustration of the tears on his cheeks, regarding the two girls they'd followed - one who's face he vaguely remembered seeing around the villiage, and the other a complete stranger to him. The girl who spoke still had her head resting against the window, eyes blank as the landscape blurred outside. 'Free from what?'

'They weren't good people...' The other girl spoke up, though her eyes were far from dead, hurt and furious. 'They did things to me, to Krystal-'

'They took me from my sister to blackmail her into researching for them.' Krystal breathed, tone devoid of emotion. 'They called us refugees but none of us really wanted to be there, not after what they did to us. They took everything from me, treated me like a dog, passed me around from one soldier to the next like a scrap of meat, and for what?'

'Krystal-' The other girl breathed in anguish, taking her hand and squeezing it.

'So what if we're safe from those things? I'd rather be eaten alive than have one of those men touch me again, be tested upon and starved into compliance.' She fixed her eyes upon Donghae, and he felt every word as it left her lips. 'I'm free. We're free. Wherever we go, whatever happens to us, you're better off now than you would've been back there.'

The other girl pulled her into her arms, sobbing, and Donghae had no words. Hyukjae seemed just as awestruck, awkwardly glancing at Donghae before fixing his eyes back on the road. It took a moment for Donghae to find the courage to taint the silence, and his words were barely a breath.

'Kibum didn't deserve that.'

For once, Hyukjae actually looked guilty.

'I'm sorry, Donghae.'

'No you're not.' Donghae sighed, and he couldn't bear to look at him any more, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over once again as he watched the world blur by outside. 'We'll never be the same, you know that?'

'I know.' Hyukjae sounded tired, and Donghae swallowed through the lump in his throat.

'You love me, don't you?'

A beat passed between them, and Donghae's heart sank even though he knew what the answer would be.

'Yes.'

'That's a pathetic reason to do something so cruel.'

'I know.'

'Twice, Hyuk. I don't feel that way about you-' Donghae glanced at him, and his heart ached to see the tears wet on Hyukjae's cheeks.

'I know.'

'What are we going to do now?'

At that, he finally broke down, like a dam bursting open. 'I don't know,' His voice shook as he exclaimed, punching the wheel in frustration. He breathed, shook his head, and whispered once again in defeat. 'I don't know.'

Donghae turned away, unable to bear it any longer. He could see the two girls in the rearview mirror, Krystal's head resting in the other girls lap, staring blankly at nothing as the other girl carded her fingers through her hair and sobbed.

'Where's your sister, Krystal?'

-

Jungsu's knees ached from where the three of them were knelt on the tiled floor, anxiously watching the boys as they stood around in deep discussion. When they'd found Youngwoon in the back of the van, they'd taken him away, out of sight, and Jungsu wondered why it made him so uneasy. 

'I can't believe we're being taken hostage by a gang of highschoolers.' Heechul muttered, and Jungsu sighed. He was right; why had Hankyung surrendered so easily? Jungsu had taken him as the type to plan every moment of his life, and he said he'd been scouting, so why had this taken them by surprise? They had guns, and they were stronger than these scrawny kids even if they were slightly worse for wear, so why hadn't they taken control?

'Fighting isn't always how you get what you want.' Hankyung said calmly, leaning his head back against the wall. Jungsu couldn't remember if the man had always spoken in riddles or if this was a new development, but either way it grated on every single nerve. 

Thirty minutes had passed since they'd first been escorted inside, and though Jungsu had only seen the foyer they were sat in, he could see this place was _big_. Heechul had told him about the facility he'd been at previously, and this place seemed far from the images his words had placed in his mind. There were smears of blood here and there, handprints on the wall and doors, but barely any sign of heavy gunfire or an all-out struggle. 

He watched the boys as they spoke in whispers, casting glances towards the three of them every so often. It seemed as if the boy who'd spoken to them outside was the leader from what Jungsu could see, coppery hair falling into his sharp, thin eyes. A rakishly slim redheaded boy rarely took his eyes off Jungsu and the others, a bandana over the lower half of his face as he stared on apathetically. One seemed to be chattering about something emphatically to the leader, blonde haired and more muscular than the others - and proud of it, going by his sleeveless muscle shirt and an almost compulsive amount of flexing he seemed to be doing subconsciously. The last just watched them speak silently, dark haired and somewhat kinder looking than the other three, smiling sympathetically whenever he caught Jungsu's assessive gaze. Though they whispered, he caught names muttered beneath their breaths; Jaebum, Mark, Jackson, Youngjae.

A distant clicking caught Jungsu's attention, and he watched as a young woman approached from the end of a corridor behind the boys, heels clacking and lab coat swaying behind her. She stopped when she reached them, saying something quickly before they dispersed to stand in seperate corners of the room watchfully.

The sound of her shoes echoed in the large, clinical space as she walked over to the three of them, and Jungsu felt like he was being examined by her cold eyes. Whilst she was indeed beautiful, it seemed as if her skin would be cold to the touch; it wasn't that she seemed unkind or cruel, just detached and untouchable. Her eyes were sharp yet tired, and her hair was greasy and knotted.

'Where's Youngwoon?' He asked once he realised she wasn't going to say a word, her gaze assessive and piercing. She raised an eyebrow, smiled in a crisp and discomforting way.

'Your friend is rather interesting. He's safe, I'll be observing him.'

'I'm a medical student - if I can help in any way...'

She took an interest then, nodding thoughtfully. 'I could use some help. You could prove useful.' Her eyes fell upon Hankyung and Heechul, then, and she slipped her small hands in her coat pockets. 'Why did you come here? You know what this place is, don't you?'

Hankyung divulged every particle of information without holding anything back, to Jungsu's surprise, and she listened patiently, expression barely changing throughout. Even the boys didn't seem too phased by the revelations, and it seemed Jungsu was the one who found it the most disturbing. 

'The tests aren't news to me, though for the record I wasn't a willing participant in the experiments. I was forced to do things I'm not proud of, lots of us were.' She bit her lip and glanced away for a moment before her composure returned, and she kneeled to unbind Jungsu's wrists. He rubbed at his sore skin and stood, embarrassed to find himself shrinking beneath the cautious stare of the boys at every angle. She led him away, the boys following close behind, and as her shoes clicked on the white floor, he prayed he could remember everything he studied.

They entered a ward, four beds occupied, one by Youngwoon and the other thre by boys around the same age as the others. The boy who Jungsu had assumed to be the leader spoke up after dropping into one of the seats beside a bed, raising an eyebrow. 'Whats the plan, Dr. Jung?'

'I want them to stick around - the main branch was researching at a far more intense level than this one, their conditions are incredibly sophisticated and there's a chance I could possibly formulate a cure.'

The boy made to speak again, but another strode forward, the blonde one, and he thrust his palm towards Jungsu overdramatically. 'We have no idea who these people are! They could kill us in our sleep!'

The boy with the kind face laughed suddenly, and Jungsu was thrown off guard to say the least. 'Jackson, think about it. There's four of us - four that can fight - and three of them. Besides, we have their friend.'

'Hopefully it won't come down to that - we mean no harm.' Jungsu assured them, and Jackson sat at the foot of one of the occupied beds with a huff. The red headed boy scoffed beneath his bandana, strolling over to lean against the wall. His voice was muffled beneath the material, yet his dispassion was audible.

'Everybody means harm nowadays.'

'Do what you want.' The leader sighed, adressing the woman and pointing to his friends unconscious on the hospital beds, 'but fix this first. And why isn't he tied up?' His finger turned to point at Jungsu rudely, and he bristled, biting his tongue so he didn't shout at the cheeky shit. It didn't matter if it was the apocalypse, being disrespected by a kid made his blood pressure rise.

'I need the help, and if you want your friends to recover then you all need to back off and let me work.' Her tone didn't change, but the bite of it was palpable, the boys all looking away as if they'd had a scloding from their mother. 'Thank you.' She added primly before walking away, heels clicking as she strode from the room. Jungsu followed reluctantly, wondering what other shit would be thrown at them from here on out.

It was later, after helping her with her observations and getting Youngwoon wired up and comfortable that he was finally left alone. He sat in the shadows watching the rise and fall of Youngwoon's chest, and he thought of how easy it would be to end his life right then, in a heartbeat. Why on Earth was he going to such lengths to save someone who had hurt him so deeply? 

He was distracted from his thoughts when the door opened and one of the boys from earlier, the leader, entered. He sat down heavily beside one of the beds, leaning over the occupant and smoothing a hand over his cheek tenderly. The boy awoke with a start, flinching from his touch even as he shushed him comfortingly. 'Hey, hey, they're not here anymore Jinyoung-'

'Jaebum?' Jinyoung gasped, looking up into his shadowed face searchingly, and Jaebum smiled.

'Yeah, it's me.'

Jungsu sank into the shadows as much as he could, feeling as though he was intruding on a personal moment. It was interesting to see such a different side of the boy to what he'd gathered of him from before, even if it made it more difficult to detach. Things were easier in black and white, and Jungsu empathised too easily. If they neede to escape, it would be easier to fight these boys if they remained enemies, rather than humans with their own complexities.

'How are you feeling?'

'Tired, and it hurts.' Jinyoung mumbled, motioning to his waist beneath the blanket, and Jaebum pulled the covers away, lifting his shirt and revealing a myriad of bruises around a large dressing stained with blood. Even from where Jungsu was sat he could see that whatever wound he had had reopened, and his stomach turned imagining the pain he must be in.

'Shit, you've been fidgeting again.' Jaebum chuckled without humour, and Jungsu could see the fear in his eyes. He peeled away the dressing, a wad of flesh coming away with it as Jinyoung clutched the bedsheets in agony. He quickly apologised, splitting open a new, clean dressing and bandaging it in a rush as Jinyoung grit his teeth, panting. Jungsu wondered how such a thing had happened, and how on Earth the boy was still holding on.

'Some guys pulled up outside earlier, Jin. Dr. Jung says she might be able to cure you.' He pressed a soft kiss to his forehead before stroking his bangs away from his face. 'Mark doesn't trust them and Jackson won't stop running his mouth, you know how it is. There's one helping Dr. Jung, and he seems fine, but the other two are shifty.' 

Jinyoung's eyes were drooping, and he slurred his words sleepily. 'I'm scared.'

'Nobody will hurt you again, I won't let them.' He wiped a tear away from Jinyoung's cheek with his thumb, leaning down to press their lips together as he began to tremble with pained sobs. 'I'll kill everyone and everything if I have to. We just need to get Bam and Yugyeom fixed up and we're out of this place.'

'There's nowhere to go, Jaebum. Everywhere's the same.'

'Who says we have to go anywhere in particular?' He chuckled, 'The whole of Korea is at our feet. Whatever they did to us, we're stronger now, we can protect ourselves, live without someone breathing down our necks and watch the sun go up and down - the seven of us, together.'

There was no response, the other boy having fallen asleep once again, and Jungsu watched Jaebum crumple in the darkness, burying his head in the nook of Jinyoung's throat as sobs shook him.

People were never as straight forward as they seemed.

-

It had been hours since he and Hankyung had been abandoned in a windowless waiting room, door locked and clock ticking to the beat of Heechul's heart. It made him anxious to be away from Jungsu, to know he was out of reach once again, and Hankyung's silence wasn't doing anything to quell his nerves.

Being bossed around by a bunch of kids didn't sit well with him, mainly because it made him feel old but also because they seemed... strange. Their eyes were wrong, the way they moved - it looked like even more people had been fucked with. Though he should've felt suspicious of the woman, there was something about her that he enjoyed just from her short appearance. She was curt, to the point, and it was refreshing after being cooped up with people who hid the truth at every turn.

He'd been staring at a flaking chunk of wallpaper in the corner of the room for the past twenty minutes, and he took a laboured breath, feeling his lungs ache with the effort.

'What are we going to do?' His voice was loud in the empty room, and the echo of it made him shiver.

'I don't always have the answers.' Hankyung folded his arms, leaning his head back against his seat and closing his eyes. 'For now, lets just trust Jungsu.' 

Heechul scoffed derisively, quirking an eyebrow in Hankyung's direction. 'Is that all you can come up with?'

'They don't seem like a threat, they're just kids. If they become a problem, then we'll have to fix it, but as of now this situation has saved us a lot of trouble, so lets just keep our mouths shut and let that woman help you.' 

Silence fell once again, and Heechul picked at his fraying trousers, regarding the sorry state of his bloody, muddy shoes. Months ago he'd been mourning the destruction of his designer boots, and now he was mulling over whether he'd be able to kill another human being. Because really, that was what Hankyung meant by 'fixing' the problem. Killing a zombie... honestly, it was shocking enough... but Hankyung truly was numb to everything except for his feelings for Heechul, and the thought was frightening.

- 

Heechul had fallen asleep after the second hour, and Hankyung had been counting the seconds in his head as they passed by, his foot tapping to the beat of the clock as it ticked. He hadn't said anything, but his eyes were keen and he could see how much faster Heechul was weakening without Hankyung's blood; his eyes were ghostly, and his rosebud lips were a shade off purple.

The question still remained, lingering in his thoughts - would Heechul still want him after this? Hankyung had watched him from the shadows throughout college, and his heart had lit up during their stay at the mall; now, however, he couldn't be sure his intentions were his own or a side effect of whatever had been done to him.  Hankung didn't need fixing. He wouldn't deteriorate, but Heechul would - was. And if Heechul was fixed, Hankyung would be the only one tied to their relationship.

Hankyung wasn't sure he could let go.

By the third hour the door clicked open, squeaking as Jungsu, the woman and the boys entered and sat across from them. Jungsu sat beside Heechul, rousing him to wakefuness and flinching when those pale eyes opened, shocked by the sight.

The boys had removed their scarves, and baby-faced as they were there was trauma in their features, in the marks on their skin and the hardness in their eyes. Only the redhead kept his scarf covering his face, eyes far away and looking at nothing in particular. The other two were still cold and vigilant, except for the fourth who was warmer, kind, tired eyes looking upon the three of them guiltily. Kindness meant vulnerablity, at least in the world as it was now, and Hankyung wondered how he'd managed to retain such an attitude, eyes still sparkling with innocence as he smiled at them as if his lips could form no other expression.

The woman took her seat daintily between the boys, crossing her legs and jostling her foot impatiently. 'I have your friend sedated so I can run some tests. as long as you all agree to remain here peacefully, I'll do my best. I truly have no reason to help you other than pure curiosity, so I hope you take that into consideration during your stay. I've had enough conflict these past few months and honestly I'm tired of men getting in the way of my work.'

Her tone was clean and crisp, and Hankyung liked her immediately. He nodded, 'We feel the same way. You'll have no problems with us.'

'We'll see.' She raised an eyebrow, 'I realise I've neglected to introduce myself. My name is Jessica Jung, and this is Jaebum, Mark, Jackson and Youngjae. There are also three other boys in my care, so my time is spread extremely thin. Jungu has already proven himself valuable, so I'm thankful for that.' She nodded at Jungsu, and he smiled back timidly. Her eyes left him, though, and rested curiously on Heechul who was dropping off to sleep once again. 'Of all of you, I must say you're the one who piques my interest the most.'

'I'm flattered, but I don't swing that way.' Heechul snickered, though the suaveness of the comment was lost in his breathlessness. 'We've told you everything, it would only be fair if you returned the favour.'

Jessica smiled softly, folding her hands upon her knee and drawing a deep breath. 'Of course, but I must warn you of the length of this story.'

'It's all in the way you tell it.' Heechul winked, leaning on Hankyung's shoulder and kicking his legs up across some chairs. 

She cleared her throat an began.

'Months before South Korea even felt the tremors of the outbreak, the army occupied this facility. I'd been working here a few years already, and every researcher was granted protection for them and their families. It sounded great, my sister is my only family so it was a miracle that I could save her, but it didn't take long for me to realise we were prisoners here. My sister was just a pawn to make me stay, because after what happened here I would have easily thrown myself to the undead if it wasn't for her.

As the months went on the things I was asked to do grew stranger and stranger. I was injecting healthy, live hosts wth the isolated disease for no good reason, but I couldn't question a thing for my sisters sake. One evening I entered my lab and my assisant was prepping my sister for analysis. It was the first time I refused to work, and it was the first time I was punished.

They said they'd set me and my sister loose if I didn't comply, but they realised soon enough how empty a threat that was, because anything was better than being here. So they threatened to send my sister into the army barracks, to let them have their way with her. I had no idea we'd end up victim to their wandering hands anyway, but I complied. I worked without sleep, barely eating, apologising to my sister with every injection. It wasn't long before she wasn't the same girl anymore.

When the outbreak finally hit, a number of schools were evacuated and the students were sent here. We masqueraded as a refuge, but really we wanted more test subjects. I was one of the most highly qualified personnel here, but I had no power. By then even my boss wasn't in charge, the army had completely taken over. I couldn't protect anybody, not my sister, not myself, not the boys. It's amazing what men can do when there are no rules, when the world is burning outside and they can do whatever they want. Raping, beating, nobody was safe. We ate when they wanted us to, slept when they felt like we deserved it.

I helped everyone I could, but there were so many people here. Nearer the end, we were running out of food and the undead were trickling in little by little, enough to make the people in control sweat enough to pack things up and leave. They took their slaves, and the doctors took their experiments. Useless people like myself and the boys were left behind, along with a few others who ran away not long after the army left. My sister was taken from me - everything I did for them and they didnt even grant me that.

So now it's just us. The boys were all failures - the only ones who have survived their bodies rejection of the medicines. One of the boys in my care was shot trying to protect his sister, and the infection, scarily, is saving his life. The other two are fighting it completely, comatose and unresponsive. I think you can understand, we were not shocked by your revelations earlier. Each of us in this room has seen the darkest side of these experiments, and the boys have suffered the most. I took part in their torture, it's only fair I repay them by trying my best to fix the damage I inflicted. I also have nowhere else to go.'

A cough rattled her thin frame as her story came to an end, rough and hard as her back shook and lungs heaved. As she gasped for air and wiped at her mouth, Hankyung looked at her in puzzlement.

'Why did they leave you behind if you were so important?'

She rubbed at her face tiredly, leaning on her palms. 'I have cystic fibrosis. My uses didn't outweigh the disadvantages. I can't leave, even with the army gone - I need my medicines, and I can't travel fast or far. Besides, I have penance to pay.'

The boy with the smile sighed, shaking his head. 'You did nothing wrong, Dr. Jung.'

'Can you look Mark in the eye and say that, Youngjae?' The blonde haired boy, Jackson, breathed reluctantly, eyes trained on the floor intensely. At his words, the redhead tugged at his neckerchief, revealing the lower half of his face. Jessica winced, and Jungsu gasped softly. His jaw was completely exposed, muscle and flesh barely hanging onto bone. 'It's true that we forgive her, that we understand, but don't say she did nothing wrong. A lot of wrong was done by her hands, even if it wasn't by her command.'

Jessica stood, cold demeanour shattered by the pained expression on her face, the wetness in her eyes. 'I'll do what I can to keep your friend comfortable while I run tests, and I'm afraid I'll have to ask for samples from you two also.' Hankyung nodded, and Heechul too, albeit reluctantly. Hankyung knew he hated needles. 'Thank you. And once again, I'm sorry for everything you've been through.' Her eyes fell upon the boys, upon Mark as he pulled his neckerchief back up, and she bowed deeply before turning the leave the room. 'All of you.'

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is taking me forever but i think i'm back on track plot wise - tell me what you think! hopefully the addition of new characters isnt too jarring/confusing - i just felt everything was getting slightly stale. the focus will still be on our main characters, and i can confidently say an end will come very shortly (probably at 13 chapters).


	12. Twelve

Kyuhyun had insisted they drive throughout the night to get as far away from the village as possible, and it was dawn of the next day by the time they stopped to rest. The cars were parked just off from the main road, covered with shrubs and branches to shield them from anyone driving by. Though the Autumn sunlight overhead spilled in through the leaves here and there, dappling the forest floor with warmth, the air was still chilly enough for them to talk of lighting a fire. Zhoumi insisted it would be too dangerous, that the smoke could reveal their whereabouts, so instead of warming themselves around flames they simply threw on extra layers and gathered close. Henry questioned why it mattered, because zombies didn't care about smoke, but after what Krystal had told him, Donghae understood that it wasn't just zombies they were running from anymore.

A booby trap was set up around their cars, tin cans on string that would chime if disturbed, and within the perimeter they ate a cold dinner, and Krystal told the group of her sister, of the facility she'd been trapped in, and her desire to go back. Sungmin and Kyuhyun shared a look between themselves, as if Sungmin was asking permission from the taller man, who looked far less eager to agree.

When Kyuhyun argued that a research facility was the last place they wanted to be, that it would be like going back to the village, Krystal objected. It was abandoned, she said. The whole base had moved up to the mountains and all that remained was her sister, too ill to follow and no threat at all.

'How will we get inside? What's to say it hasn't been taken over since you've been gone?' Donghae asked with intrigue, nerves buzzing at the idea of doing something. He'd been idle so long, following Hyukjae blindly and not doing a thing himself, that the prospect of fighting, of helping someone in some way, sent adrenaline coursing through his veins.

'There's an exit. Well, kind of – it's a dump, where they would throw out the waste, but you can get in through there. I used to try to escape that way, me and a few others, but it was too heavily guarded before.' Krystal seemed to reflect on something, eyes growing duller as she scraped her spoon around her cold tin of soup distantly. 'We should be fine going that way, now. There's no way they could have left with all the food, there was so much, enough for years of quarantine – we could hole up there for a while.'

The second food was mentioned it was obvious everyone was on board with the plan. Kyuhyun's group had gathered enough food for their escape to feed the four of them for around a week or more, but now there was double the number of people and not enough to last them a long journey. Besides, it was getting colder, the days were getting shorter, and their gas would only last so long if they couldn't find anywhere to scrounge a few extra drops.

They agreed to make a move in the night, under cover of darkness, and retreated to their cars to get some sleep. Hyukjae had grown eerily silent, and though Donghae's heart yearned to repair the splintered edges of their relationship, he was too bitter, too raw to balm the wounds that bled between them, and he swapped cars with Zhoumi to take a break from the stranger he'd once thought to have known so well.

Of course, sleep didn't come easily, and small conversation droned between the four of them. Only Henry found rest with ease, snoring in the back seat beside Donghae and somehow making the cramped car look comfortable.

If he hadn't heard Kibum's story, Kyuhyun and Sungmin's tale would have blown his mind to pieces. It still took a while for him to really accept what had happened to them, the sheer trauma they'd been through, and he quietly realised why Kyuhyun was so reluctant to go anywhere near another facility after what had been done to them.

They were curious to know what happened to Kibum, naturally, but it was hard for Donghae to articulate, to speak about him and know he'd never see him again, to know he'd stood by in his naivite as Hyukjae threw him under the bus.

The fact that Kibum was immune to the virus was a shock to them, and Kyuhyun actually seemed interested in what he was saying for a moment before he turned away in contemplation, leaving only Sungmin's pensive gaze.

'We've all done things we're not proud of, Hae.' He spoke softly, seemingly agonising over his own words, and Donghae could see the statement was said for the both of them. 'We're all tired, we're all stressed, and Hyukjae might just be the last friend you have left at the end of all this. Besides, maybe Kibum will end up saving the world. Either way, there's nothing you can do about it now, so let's all get some sleep while we can.'

Despite Sungmin's soft words, there was no comfort he could find within them.

At some point he'd fallen asleep, and he awoke with a start in near darkness, seeing Kyuhyun suddenly press a finger to his lips with urgency in his eyes. Henry was awake now, face pressed to the window as he watched something outside, the three of them still as statues and silent save for their hushed breaths.

Kyuhyun moved back into his seat slowly, and Donghae leaned forward to see what they were all watching, what had them so on edge. Through the windshield he could see a squad of army jeeps passing by, their headlamps bright in the fading evening light, and soldiers watched from the windows with their guns raised, searching for something. Searching for them, he supposed. What did they even want with them, anyway? They were nobodies, just a few citizens who decided to pack up and leave. To be so intent on tying up loose ends was disturbing.

When the coast was clear, they had a quick breakfast in the car before Sungmin took the drivers seat, signaling the other car with the headlamps before they rolled out from their cover onto the pitch black road. They kept their lights off to avoid any unwanted attention, engines purring softly as they practically crawled down the mountain.

Donghae smoothed the aluminum bat in his hands, feeling the weight of it with an odd sense of satisfaction. After so long away from the dangers of the world as it was, there was something comforting about having a weapon once again, and he was eager to relieve the tension bottled up within himself.

This time he'd fight. This time he would lead and Hyukjae would follow. This time nobody else was getting hurt because of Hyukjae's foolish obsession.

A week passed of driving by night and resting in the shadows by day, and still not a word had passed between him and Hyukjae. Whenever Donghae met his eyes, he had the decency to look away in shame, and even if it made his chest tighten with regret, it was for his own health that he didn't give in to his ache for Hyukjae's company. Otherwise he'd never learn, he'd never see that Donghae could think for himself, and that he could survive without Hyukjae if he had to.

They left their cars a few miles out from the facility so as not to leave a trail, covering them as they had every day in the forests that lined the road they'd taken. Laden with backpacks, they hiked through the night, bone tired and fraught with anxiety. Months of being out of the war had softened them all, only Kyuhyun and Sungmin confidently taking the lead, with Krystal and Amber bringing up the rear. 

He'd forgotten how exhausting being out in the wild was, because even back then they'd been lucky enough to drive through the apocalypse relatively unscathed, barely even encountering the undead. After the first few hours his feet ached and his mouth was dry even after glugging down his bottle of water.

He was so used to Hyukjae taking the lead, to following in his every step, that now that his eyes were opened and his naive mind was finally switched on to reality, the fear and adrenaline burned in his veins like never before. He heard the bushes whisper beside him and whistled softly to alert the group nodding his head towards the sound and holding his bat aloft as if he was playing baseball, adjusting his grip as he waited for the maker of the noise to emerge.

It was fast, running at him with an inhuman screech, and he pulled back to allow for a full swing of his bat. A loud clang rang out as he shattered its skull, its heavy body landing at his feet with a thud.

‘Home run!’ He shouted with a chuckle, his breath trembling with exhileration. Swinging the bat in his hand, he turned to the others with a triumphant smirk. Zhoumi nodded in appreciation and Henry gave a solid thumbs up. He saw Kyuhyun crack a smile, only to be replaced with an expression of panic.

‘Heads up – no gunfire, keep it quiet.’ The taller boy hissed, waving at the rest of the group and signaling them to be still with a palm held aloft.

As Donghae looked back to where his braindead victim had stumbled from, he saw a few more emerging from the darkness, mere shadows he couldn’t see enough to count. They were moving at different speeds, but all in the same direction.

Following the sound.

He readied himself again, tightening his grip on his bat and bending his knees, jumping slightly at the warmth of Hyukjae’s back pressed against his own.

 

He didn’t flinch or move away. After all, he was still his best friend, and this was no time to deny help.

The sound of fighting was all around him in moments as his body moved on instinct, blood rushing through his veins as his heart pumped erratically with exerction. However, after the tenth zombie left gargling on the ground, it was apparent they were in for more than they expected. The sound of blunt objects cracking bone echoed through the forest, shouts of exertion and heavy breaths becoming all that Donghae could hear.

His arm ached, his shoulder throbbing with every powerful strike and gore covering him thickly, the smell of copper in his nostrils and the putrid scent of rot. He didn’t remember zombies being this fast, and even on the road he hadn’t seen this many – not since they escaped college.

Amber’s voice rang out above the chaos, urgent and sharp. ‘We have to move, they’re not stopping!’

They formed a circle, covering each other’s blind spots as they ran through the forest. The horde kept coming, attracted to the sound of their weapons. Why were there so many? Sweat rolled from the end of his nose, dripped from his brows and into his eyes. His shirt was plastered to his skin, and Hyukjae’s breathing was fast and heavy beside him.

‘Hyuk-‘ He swung his bat as a shape lurched at him from his left, groaning. ‘Augh! Hyuk, you okay?’

‘Focus, Hae!’ Hyukjae shouted back, pulling his hammer free from the back of a fractured skull, blood spraying his face as he frowned briefly in Donghae’s direction. ‘Don’t worry about me.’

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes, biting his lip to stop himself from retorting with something childish. Instead, he retorted childishly in his head. Worry? He was beyond that now, he was just making sure Hyukjae wasn’t going to drop down and leave him open to attack.

Of course, it was a lie.

He still loved the asshole to death, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to kick his ass. Maybe later, when death wasn’t a special on today’s menu.

 

-

 

Jungsu was doing his best, working tirelessly to keep Youngwoon and the other boys comfortable while Jessica researched in her lab. And Heechul could see how dire his own situation was becoming, because Jungsu was looking at him like he was already dead. He couldn’t hold himself up anymore, all the strength had fled his emaciated body and no amount of Hankyung’s blood could save him now.

He was too far gone.

But Heechul was thankful all the same. Thankful to be clean, to be able to rest and sleep in a real bed even if his bones ached all night and no amount of blankets could keep him warm. Even if he was sharing the room with three half-dead strangers and Youngwoon’s ugly mug.

One kid woke up every now and then, and he was pleasant to talk to even if he made Heechul feel old. Before the world had ended he’d been so frivolous with his time, thinking the world would wait around for him. He knew he shouldn’t feel guilty, but it still felt like a waste.

Whenever he couldn’t sleep, and the other boy – Jinyoung, if he remembered correctly – wasn’t awake, he’d watch Youngwoon. He was fighting the infection with every fibre of his being, his skin dripping with sweat and his body convulsing throughout the night.

And he realized at some point he’d begun to empathise with the bastard, and it pissed him off. But seeing Jungsu’s face whenever he visited him deep in the night with bags beneath his eyes and his shoulders bowed and bent, watched him wipe the sweat from Youngwoon’s brow and fall asleep on his chest, it broke his heart and he’d be damned if Youngwoon hurt Jungsu one more time.

The selfish bastard better not die. Not until Heechul had a good long scream at him.

Lucky for Heechul, he’d always hated needles, so being a lab rat was a real highlight in his already harrowing world. It was instinct to scowl whenever Jessica entered the room, because even if he didn’t mind her as a person, he minded the weapon she wielded. He swore the needles got longer every time, or maybe his skin was just more sensitive.

Every day she stood before his bed and scribbled this or that onto a clipboard, humming and frowning and poking at the IV drip jammed into his arm. She didn’t talk much, but that didn’t stop Heechul from having fully fledged conversations with the woman. Every now and then she would offer a small smile, pretty on her usually frigid face, and Heechul knew she wasn’t entirely hardened yet. There was something soft she was keeping in her heart, something that couldn’t be frozen by the ice of this world.

And Hankyung would sit at his side whenever he wasn’t being prodded at as well, lending an ear to Heechul’s inane babbling and holding him through his fevered dreams, reassuring him that it would be over soon, that the pain would ease. Be it by a shot of morphine or the bliss of an exhausted sleep, the pain would ebb, but Heechul found comfort only in Hankyung’s love, not his words.

Because the only way it would be over would be for him to finally give in to the poison in his blood. And Kim Heechul never gave up.

  
The night was long, all of them exhausted and debauched as they managed to lose the horde that had chased them to the pale light of dawn. It was bright enough to make out their surroundings bit by bit, and eventually they were free of the forest, coming to a clearing beside a large dam.

 

At least, it looked like a dam to Sungmin at first, until the smell filled his nostrils. The stench was like nothing he had ever been subjected to before, his vision blurring for a moment from the sheer power of it. Of course, he vomited immediately, and he couldn’t even be embarrassed or digusted by his bodies reaction as by the end of his purging he saw the rest of the group heaving into the shrubs with the same vehemence.

He gathered his strength and tightened his stomach, pulling his shirt up over his nose as he dared to step further into the clearing and peer into the deep pit that stood before them.

Thousands upon thousands of them. Writhing against each other, aimless and emaciated. They clawed at themselves, at each other, at the walls, desperate for food, desperate to get out. His stomach lurched once again, and he fell to his knees, desperately catching his breath.

Rushed footsteps came up from his rear and he felt a warm hand on his back, Kyuhyun’s worried tone following the touch. ‘Are you okay? What on Earth is this smell-‘

‘Oh my God.’ He heard Henry breathe, and Sungmin looked up weakly to see the sheer devastation on his usually cheerful face. ‘There’s so many… so many dead. I don’t know why… I knew but I didn’t believe it. I’ve never seen so many.’

He caught the younger boy as his legs lost their strength, and he pulled him into his side, holding him as he sobbed. Sungmin envied him his tears, because all he felt was numbness. He’d seen so much yet this was beyond anything else. A fresco of the apocalypse, a pit of despair.

‘They’re just falling in… it’s endless. That’s why there were none on the road this whole time. God, what happened here?’ Amber knelt beside Henry, her eyes wide and wet as she looked upon the mass grave, and Krystal stood furthest from them all with a distant gaze.

‘It wasn’t like this when I was here, it was just the waste disposal. A few of them would wander in and drown but not this many… They always told us if we kept trying to run they’d throw us in here. I guess that’s what they did.’

Sungmin gagged, and Kyuhyun furrowed his brows. ‘The army? They just threw people in here as bait so they could get away?’

‘There were old people, sick people. People they’d tested on and the tests hadn’t worked out to plan. You saw how strange those undead were in the forest, how fast they were. I recognized some of them. They were experiments.’

‘Should we really go inside? We should turn back.’ Zhoumi sounded shaken, but his eyes were clear and serious, free of the easy smirk that usually creased the corners of them. 

Sungmin’s lips moved of their own accord, nothing left in his stomach to purge and no feeling in his fingertips. ‘What choice do we have?’

They stayed close, watching the trees and keeping their steps small, hearts fearful of making one misstep and falling into the hell below. Krystal led them with her aloof confidence on legs that looked too thin to be standing. She never looked back at them as she made her way into the building, through winding sewage ways and dark passages, long abandoned.

Finally the stench was almost gone, and Sungmin felt almost himself again. He let out a shaky sigh, and Kyuhyun’s hand tightened in his own. He hadn’t noticed when the younger boy’s fingers had entwined with his own, too lost in the shock of everything.

‘The basement is through here.’ Krystal’s voice was small and thin but it echoed about them as if she had shouted, sending a shiver down Sungmin’s spine. Something felt wrong.

Krystal’s hand fell upon the door before them, but it was open before she could strain a muscle to push it, figures standing before them hidden by the blinding flashlights they shone at them. Sungmin recoiled from the sudden burst of light, so used to the dark hallways they’d been traipsing through for the past few hours, and Kyuhyun held him close with fearsome strength. In the confusion, though, all Sungmin could hear was an unfamiliar voice, muffled yet audible.

‘They’re alive.’

 

-

 

Sungmin saw the colour in Krystal’s cheeks for the first time as she shook in her sister’s arms and sobbed into the white of her lab coat. As he looked upon them all he could think of was his own sister, where she was, if she survived. His parents lived around here – maybe they’d taken a well-timed holiday. Maybe they’d wandered into the pit.

They were fed, bathed and rested, and it was apparent just how exhausted they really were. When death is following you, there’s no time to feel the pain in your feet or be repulsed by the smell of your sweat. He had no idea how long he’d slept, he just knew he wanted to sleep more. However the fear of waking and finding the moment of safety to have been a fleeting dream made him leave the crisp white sheets he’d somehow ended up in.

The floor was cold as his blistered feet padded down the hallway, and he glanced into every window he passed yet didn’t see any sign of life other than freshly wrinkled sheets. As he neared the end of the second hallway he heard voices, a distant murmur, and he pushed open the double doors before him to find everybody sat around in a cafeteria, listening to a blonde woman speak.

Soon he was wrapped in blankets and pulled close to Kyuhyun’s side as the woman told them of everything that had happened, of Heechul’s condition and how Youngwoon could be the cure to the virus.

Kyuhyun must have seen Sungmin react to the news of Heechul, because he quickly warned him not to go to him, but Sungmin didn’t heed his words. It was late in the night when the rest of them had returned to rest their tired bodies some more than he wandered the empty hallways once again, avoiding the mysterious teenagers guarding each end of the facility.

The second he laid eyes on Heechul, he couldn’t repress the sob that was ripped from his chest. He was skeletal and gaunt, lungs straining to fill with air as the machine wheezed to aid him. The once fair man opened his eyes at the sound of Sungmin’s cry, and smiled weakly raising a finger to beckon him closer.

He sat at Heechul’s side all night, asking his forgiveness for leaving him to waste away. Heechul just laughed weakly, rolling his eyes and telling him of all the troubles that had followed Sungmin’s departure, of Jungsu’s abuse and Youngwoon’s miracle. Before he fell into a fitful slumber once again, he just winked at Sungmin.

‘Besides, I’m not dead yet, there’s still plenty of time to tell that woman you’re also immune.’


End file.
